Samhain Rites
by Leannan Sith
Summary: By a wicked twist of fate, an ancient Faerie rite brings Sarah and Jareth back into the same world. Sarah doesn't know how to respond or what to think of her old nemesis, but Jareth quickly develops a secret plan: a plan to make her his slave. EDITING
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_All around, beautiful people in beautiful clothes swirled and spun in an unrecognisable dance. Looking at them for too long almost hurt the eyes, they were so magnificent, illuminated by the hundreds of candles in the crystal chandeliers hanging from the glass ceiling, through which the glowing moon and seemingly effervescent stars shone brightly in the velvet-blue sky. The music was like water, flowing tangibly among the dancers, caressing them, surrounding them. Sarah moved with the melody, each shimmering cadence wrapping itself around her as she surrendered herself to handsome man who held her close as he twirled her across the dance floor, his eyes full of tender compassion; it couldn't have been clearer how much he cherished the act of holding her. _

Sarah moved slightly on the bed, her muscles twitching to the rhythm of a long-forgotten melody. A soft moan escaped her lips and she rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket closer to her chest.

_They were dancing away from the music, Sarah and her beautiful, starry king. Out of the crystal doors, the tangible music following them through the halls of the castle beyond the Goblin City, they moved together perfectly, their bodies completely in tune with one anothe__r. Even when they entered the room of twisting stairs they didn't falter, twisting and swaying up and down the ever-changing staircases. _

On her back again, Sarah clenched her fists, her face moist with sweat. If only she could just wake up now, before the dream turned into a nightmare.

_Something was wrong; Sarah couldn't tell what it was, but something was wrong…she was no longer in the king's arms, but facing him at a distance. Her lips were moving, but she couldn't hear her own words. No, she was speaking against her will, spewing terrible words which she didn't believe and couldn't hear. Only the last six were intelligible, ringing clearly through the misty air before the world was torn asunder. _

'_You have no power over me…'_

Sarah woke with a gasp, sitting up abruptly, her breath haggard and her hands shaking.

'Jareth!' she cried, a dry sob wracking through her body. With trembling fingers she pushed her drenched hair back from her forehead and reached for the glass of water that stood by the bed, taking a long drink and trying not to make any noise. Her efforts were for naught, though, because a moment later the bedside light flicked on, revealing her flushed and anguished face.

'Sarah?' Adrian sat up beside her, his face creased with concern. 'Don't worry, Sarah, it was just the dream.' He reached out to put his arms around her, but she shied away from him, standing up on wobbling legs and walking to the window.

Why tonight? Of all nights for the dream to come, why tonight?

'I'm fine, Adrian. Go back to sleep.' Of course he wouldn't listen, though; he loved her, and wouldn't leave her alone when she was so distressed. The only problem was that, as usual after the dream had run its course, the thought of him made her feel physically ill with a horrid sense of betrayal.

'Can you remember anything about it this time?' He asked, standing and coming up behind her. She opened the window to let in the crisp autumn air, leaning forward and away from him.

'No, nothing,' she lied. Sometimes, during the day when nightmares seemed frail and far away, she considered telling him the truth. Telling him about the games she used to play and the fantasies she'd entertain, and how her mysterious Goblin King haunted her still, to the point where she sometimes believed her adventure in the Labyrinth had actually happened. She knew, though, that Adrian would only scoff and tell her that she was being ridiculous, and that the dreams would go away if she'd stop clinging to an immature love of magic. That was, after all, one of the things she loved the most about him: he was so sensible, so logical, so infallibly reasonable; he was kind and caring, but not in any way romantic.

Sarah almost gasped as she realized, for the first time, that he was the Goblin King's exact opposite in every way.

'Don't worry about it, Sarah,' Adrian told her, interrupting her train of thought. 'It's good, in a way—it made sure we got up on time. After all, it is a big day, isn't it?' He turned her around and smiled at her.

Why tonight? It had been over a week since she'd had the dream. Why did it have to return the night before her wedding?

* * *

_This was my first fanfic, so I'd really appreciate reviews, especially criticism...I need to know what to do better next time! _

_It's based on Celtic mythology, inspired by the myth _The Stolen Bride. _Google _"the stolen bride" celtic mythology_, and it should be the first link. _

_Right now I'm editing, trying to get rid of those darn typos. _

_Disclaimer: Labyrinth and it's characters belong to Henson, Bowie, etc. _

_

* * *

  
_

_"I am mist and I am sea_

_And I will give my heart to thee_

_I am the field where crops are sown_

_And I will take you for my own."_


	2. Chapter 2

_"Come live a shadow of a life_

_In world of dances and delight_

_Beneath the hill where shadows hide_

_Leave your soul to take my side. "_

**Chapter 2**

Sarah shook herself mentally and physically. _Don't think about it. Not now_.

It wasn't fair to Adrian to think about the Goblin King on their wedding day. She stood in front of a mirror in a beautiful, shimmering white wedding gown, her hair in a fancy up-do, a bouquet on the small table beside her. The guests had arrived and the hall was full, and it wouldn't be long before she and Adrian were officially joined in holy matrimony. This was the best day of her life. So why couldn't she stop comparing her wedding gown to the enormous, pouffy white dress she'd worn seven years ago in the Goblin King's crystal ballroom, and so often in her dreams since then?

And even worse—why couldn't she stop longing to go to sleep again, so that she could return there? She knew perfectly well how terrible the nightmare was, but even so she yearned for it. It was only in the few hours following the dream that Sarah feared and despised it—the rest of the time she longed against her will to be transported back into the arms of the cruel, harsh, mocking, enchanting Goblin King.

Sarah turned from the mirror, disgusted with herself. _Maybe I should see someone. Get some help_, she thought, not for the first time. For the last seven years she'd been haunted not only by the dreams, but by the occasional glimpse of something that couldn't be real, and no matter how many times she told herself that it was all a fantasy, that magic didn't exist, she was never certain one way or the other.

_I need to get out of here_. Sarah knew that she still had a bit of time before the ceremony began, and she felt too trapped in the little room to sort through her thoughts properly. There was no door and she didn't want to meet anyone on the way out, so after a moment's hesitation she opened the window and jumped out, dress, high heels and all, into the crisp November air.

As she straightened up, she saw something sparkling out of the corner of her eyes, but when she turned to look it was gone. _Come on, Sarah, get a grip_, she told herself firmly, shaking her head to clear it. When she looked up again, though, a flock of tiny, winged creatures hovered directly before her. Sarah blinked, gasping, and they were gone.

This had been happening for seven years, and it was always worse after she had the dream. _I'm going insane_, she thought bitterly. _No, I'm already insane. Dear god, what am I going to do?_ She couldn't count the number of times she'd had these thoughts. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and began to walk slowly down the street, ignoring the strange glances she was attracting in her strapless white gown and wishing that she'd brought a coat.

The wedding was supposed to be in the summer time, but Adrian's father had had an accident so it had been rescheduled for November first. The wind was sharp and dry leaves crunched under her feet as she turned to look back at the chapel. It was time to go back—at least the cold air had helped to clear her head. As she began to return, she didn't notice the four stout men approaching her from behind. Back at the chapel, she lifted up her skirt to climb through the window, feeling ridiculous and wishing that she had never left…and suddenly fell backwards in a dead faint.

* * *

Jareth, king of the Goblin City, sat in his throne room, one leg thrown casually over the arm of his throne, staring thoughtfully across the room. On the floor below the raised dais on which his throne stood, goblins and other lesser fae danced, drank and feasted.

'I really do not understand it,' Manannan Mac Lir was saying from another throne to Jareth's left. Manannan, a king of the Seelie Court of Tir Na Nóg, had been at war with the Goblin City off and on for four thousand years, and he was one of Jareth's closest friends.

'There is nothing to understand,' Jareth replied in a bored tone.

'Really, though, Jareth,' said Finvarra, High King of the Unseelie Court and to whom Jareth owed his allegiance, from his own magnificent throne. 'You used to throw balls at every occasion. What happened?'

'Do you remember when you found out I had not invited you to my Beltane Masque? You sulked for years, even though we had been at war at the time,' added Manannan, and Jareth smiled at the memory.

'But for two decades, now, nothing,' Finvarra went on. 'Even when you throw a party, there is no formal dancing. What happened?'

'The last ball I threw was...well, things got a little bit out of hand,' Jareth answered, his smile twisting bitterly on his face. 'And I have not felt the need or desire to repair my ballroom.'

'You have four ballrooms, Jareth,' Manannan reminded him. 'What happened to the other three?'

'I do not feel like cleaning up cobwebs?' Jareth offered, but luckily he was saved from further questioning as Midir, Seelie king of Brí Léith, appeared in their midst.

'Happy Samhain,' he said graciously, sitting down. He plucked a glass of mead from the hand of a passing goblin and silently toasted the three other kings. 'Now, someone play chess with me,' he commanded, gesturing to the empty space before him, where a chessboard appeared, floating in mid-air.

'No,' said Finvarra. 'I'm not in the mood to deal with a cheater. Not on Samhain, Midir-my-dear,' he added.

'Come now, you are too hard on me,' Midir replied. 'You cheat at least as often as I do. Or are you just afraid that I will beat you fairly?' Jareth watched as Finvarra glanced down at the board, hesitating: everyone knew how much he loved chess.

'Oh, very well,' he replied at last, with feigned misgivings. 'Some of my dwarves managed to capture a bride today. Why don't we play for her?'

'You captured a bride?' Jareth asked, brow furrowed. 'But Finvarra, the laws—'

'Oh, do not worry, Jareth,' Finvarra replied. 'She was already touched, so there is no harm done. Why a touched woman would marry on Samhain is beyond me, since it is one of the only days we can take prisoners against their will…but so she did. And so it appears I have bride for the next seven years.'

But Jareth's attention was already elsewhere. As the game began he couldn't help remembering Manannan and Finvarra's questioning from earlier. He hadn't danced, except when he was alone with his goblins, in twenty years, since _she_ had destroyed his crystal ballroom, which he had spun from crystallized dreams especially for her.

He shook his head infinitesimally, throwing thoughts of _her_ from his mind. It was Samhain, and he wasn't going to think about anything unpleasant. Determinedly, he turned back to the game and saw that Finvarra was winning. Midir, however, seemed completely nonplussed, and Jareth wondered if he had a plan. Suddenly, Finvarra looked up.

'My dwarves are outside, Midir, and our prize will be arriving any moment. It is high time we know what we are fighting for; after all, we may decide that we want to lose on purpose.' All four kings looked up curiously as four stout little men bore a stretcher towards the dais, on which a young woman lay beneath a shimmering white cloth. Her dark hair stood starkly against the snowy background, but Jareth couldn't make out her face. Nonetheless, he felt his fists clenching involuntarily as she was borne ever nearer.

What was wrong? Jareth's breath was coming in short gasps and he could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest. He looked blindly around for danger, for any explanation for his panic. What was happening?

And then the stretcher was before them, the young bride lain across it like a fallen angel, and Jareth was looking down at _her_, at _her_ delicate, closed eyes, at _her_ porcelain, eternally precious face, and he couldn't breathe and what was _she_ doing here and how could _she_ betray him like this and oh by the spirits just seeing _her_ again was like a beautiful spring day after a long and endless winter, but he wanted to hurt _her_, to punish _her_ for what _she_ did to him how could _she_ how could _she_ and he could never hurt _her_, he would protect _her_ forever, forever, forever…

It was _her_. It was Sarah.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you all so much for the reviews, faves, etc. I really appreciate it :)_

_Thanks for reading! _

* * *

"_I am the wind that shifts the leaves_

_I am the flowers on the trees,_

_I'm everything you love in life,_

_I am the beauty of the night."_

**Chapter 3**

Every muscle in his body tense, Jareth turned to Finvarra.

'Let me play you for her instead,' he said, careful to keep his voice devoid or emotion. Despite his best efforts, though, his words came in a rush, saturated with passion and urgency. The other three kings all turned to stare at him.

'Why?' Finvarra finally asked. 'She is pretty, I suppose, but hardly…' his voice trailed off as an expression of intense anger consumed Jareth's face.

Pretty? _Pretty?_ How could such a mundane word be used to describe Sarah, his Sarah? He struggled to find the words to contradict his king, but could think of no adequate adjective to describe her.

'Just play me for her,' Jareth snapped, but at the last syllable his voice turned to an almost begging tone. He didn't know what he'd do with her after he had her; he didn't know much about the Samhain rite that Finvarra was exploiting; half of him wanted to see Sarah screaming in agony, as he had screamed, twenty years ago; all he knew was he had to keep her from Finvarra. The thought of Sarah—_his _Sarah—becoming the slave bride of the High King of the Unseelie Court for seven years, or for even an instant, was enough to make his blood turn hot with fury.

'Jareth,' Midir said, his brow furrowed in confusion, 'tell us what is wrong. Why do you want her so?'

'She…appeals to me,' Jareth replied, choking as he tried to lie, even though he knew full well that Faeries could not. 'If you do not play me I will duel you for her,' he continued, staring Finvarra, his king, full in the face. A direct challenge to the High King was an act of treason, but he didn't care. Sarah…

'No,' replied, Finvarra thoughtfully, and with a rush of expelled breath Jareth reached for his sword, before the other king continued. 'I will give her to you, Jareth. Yes, she will be my Samhain gift to you…on the condition that you tell me, truthfully, why you want her so.'

Jareth hesitated for a long time. He had never told anyone what had happened two decades earlier, and didn't want to start now. Besides the fact that it would mean revealing his weakness and humiliation, it would force him to relive the events which he had tried so hard to forget or render insignificant.

'You swear that if I tell you, you will give her to me, to keep as my own?' he asked cautiously, not wanting to be tricked. On the other hand, it might be a relief to tell his friends what had happened…

'I swear in the name of Anu that, should you tell me why you desire her, I will grant you this human lady and keep no claim over her,' Finvarra stated, his grey eyes glinting in amusement at the game. He was not a particularly cruel Faerie, but he loathed secrets.

'Very well,' Jareth eventually sighed, looking away. He glanced at Midir and Manannan, hoping that they wouldn't all be privy to his secret, but when they made no move to depart he sighed again and began, slowly, to tell them about Sarah

'Over a hundred Fae years ago I was aboveground on a mission—I cannot remember which one. All I remember is that for whatever reason I ended up in a park, where a human girl played alone. She must have been nine or ten human years old. The strange part is that she saw me. I do not to this day know how, because I am certain that she does not have the Sight, but there is no doubt in my mind that she saw me standing there as clearly as you see me now. Perhaps her belief in magic allowed it.

'At the time, though, I assumed she had the sight, and decided to go check up her later, to make sure that she didn't get into trouble, or to steal her away to my realm, if she was touched. So I returned one day, and once again saw her playing alone, acting out a complex fantasy story. I cannot deny that she…_intrigued _me, to the point where whenever I was aboveground I would go to check on her. Back then time was running far faster Underground than it was in the human world, so even though my visits were rare I still saw her grow from a child obsessed with fantasy to a young woman who still believed in magic.'

Here Jareth paused, a deep sigh wracking through his body. 'It seems that I ended up sharing your fascination with human women, Finvarra, because to me there was no one more perfect. The combination of her exotic humanity, her youthful belief in magic and her maturity—not yet developed enough to make her serious and hardened, but developed enough to allow her more complex thoughts and opinions than a child—seemed impossibly magnificent to me, after all of the centuries of Faerie women and their supernatural beauty and harsh cruelty. She was young, far too young…but she was my fantasy, my escape. Eventually I grew so obsessed with her that she was all I thought about, and every spare minute was spent watching her as she read or played. But I never sought contact with her, never allowed her to see me again after that first time. What appealed to me most about her was that she continued to believe, long after the age when most humans stop, with absolutely no proof.'

Again, Jareth hesitated. There was no need for him to tell them all of this, and he knew it. All he had to say was that he had been in love with her and had offered her everything, and that she had rejected him. But somehow the words kept spilling out, thick with pain and longing.

'Then, when she was about twelve, her father remarried. I had to watch her crying, weeping, in pain and betrayal. Neither of her parents understood her love of the fantastic or her longing for love and fear of rejection, and her stepmother certainly did not. Only I saw all this, I, her hidden observer. And I came to the conclusion that she would be happier Underground than she was above.

'I knew not what I would do with her once she was here, but seeing her suffering was more than I could bear. Still, I did not want to take her against her will, which, despite the laws, I could easily have done. Instead, I sent her a gift: a well-known book among Fae, in which a young girl with an evil stepmother must overcome the Goblin King. My intention was to use the book to introduce her to the idea of Faeries, goblins and, of course myself. Then, when I reread the story myself, I got another idea, and decided to grant her certain powers; in particular, the power to wish.'

Finvarra let out a surprised hiss of breath at these words, but said nothing. Jareth knew that he should have consulted his king before granting such a power, but there was nothing he could do to change it now, so he just continued with the story, with the words and feelings which seemed to flow in a never-ending torrent, unstoppable.

'I even allowed myself to visit her dreams, at times, although she never remembered in the morning. When she slept, I was able to speak with her, as I had longed to for decades. It was those stolen conversations that finally made me realize how much I was in love with her.' His words came out as a whisper, and when they were spoken his voice died completely. In love. He was in love with her.

_Sarah…_

He couldn't handle this, having her here again. But she _was_ there, she was lying on the stretcher, resplendent in white, her face as pale as death, her lips slightly parted. Thanks to her foolhardiness, and the mistakes that he had made, she was once again in his realm, once again wreaking havoc in his heart and mind, once again turning his world. How he loathed her, how he wanted her to suffer, how he wanted to comfort her when she did. She was here. And then, as he watched, her fingers were twitching, her lashes were fluttering, a soft sound was pushing itself from the back of her throat…

'She is awakening!' cried Finvarra. 'Jareth, I expect the rest of the story later on. For now, you must claim her as your own. That will give you responsibility over her time in Faerie, and mean that none but you can enchant her.'

'How—' Jareth had to stop and clear his throat before he could finish the sentence. 'How do I claim her?'

'Simply pull the cloth from her body, and she will be yours.'

With shaking hands Jareth reached forward and took the gauzy fabric in his long, thin fingers. He had never wanted to claim her magically, not like this…but there was little choice in the matter now. If he did not, then Finvarra would have her.

In one swift movement, he pulled the white cloth from Sarah's frigid body.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Your life is short and dull and bland, _

_But if you'll reach and take my hand_

_I'll bring you to a world where death_

_Is but a past you can forget."_

**Chapter 4**

Sarah didn't know if she had ever been so comfortable. She was lying on a bed as soft as…as…

With a sigh, Sarah abandoned her attempt to think of a simile and snuggled deeper beneath the thick comforter. For whatever reason, she felt more relaxed than she had in, well, seven years.

'I know you are awake,' a monotonous voice said from above her, a voice that wound its way within her semi-conscious mind, wrenching her heart like a twisted knife and wrapping around her like a tender embrace. Sarah's eyes flew open, her chest constricting as she tried to breathe. The Goblin King was sitting by her bed, staring at the wall behind her. His presence tore through her as they remained in tension-wrought silence, but then she sighed and collapsed on the bed, relaxed again.

'Why aren't we dancing?' she asked sleepily. Maybe her mind had grown tired of the crystal ballroom, and had decided to fabricate a new dream to torment her. She wondered vaguely when she would wake up.

'What are you talking about? Why would we be dancing?' The king finally looked down at her, confusion, irritation, fury and something unrecognisable swirling within the infinite depths of his mismatched eyes.

'We usually are,' Sarah answered. Apparently this dream-king didn't share memories with the other one. 'This is nice, too, though. I just hope we don't end up in the Escher room.'

'S-Sarah,' the Goblin King said, looking back up at the wall as he stumbled over her name. 'I do not know what you are talking about. But are you aware what day it is?'

Day? She thought it was night. Besides, she wasn't usually aware of time in the dream. Day…what day was it? Sarah wracked her brain. What was the last thing she remembered? There were sparkling lights…she was worried about getting her dress dirty as she climbed back through the window…her dress…

Suddenly, Sarah sat straight up in the bed, the blanket falling down off of the bodice of her elaborate gown.

'My wedding day. It's my wedding day! I have to wake up now, please,' she cried, turning to the king. 'This isn't fair to Adrian. How did I fall asleep? How do I wake up?' She looked frantically around, searching for a way out. In the other dream she had no control over what she did: involuntarily, she repeated the words that she had said seven years ago, and everything came crashing down. This time, though, it was different. What was she supposed to do?

'Sarah,' the king said, but she refused to listen to him. Poor Adrian, falling in love with someone like her, someone so obsessed with a fantasy she'd had as a child that she was falling asleep on her own wedding day. Or maybe she'd fallen while climbing back through the window, and was knocked unconscious. In that case it was her fault, too, because she should never have left. What had she been thinking?

'Sarah,' the king said again, louder, actually taking her bare shoulders and turning her to face him. 'You are not dreaming. Do you know what the date is?' But even though his fingers were encased in black leather gloves, his touch seemed to burn and freeze her at the same time, and she found herself unable to respond. After a second of silence the king yanked his hands away as though he'd been clinging to a hot brand. He sighed in irritation, quickly conjuring a crystal and twirling it between his fingers for no reason that Sarah could spot.

'You are not dreaming. It is November first, Precious. Samhain.'

_Not dreaming_. The words finally seemed to sink in now that he'd released her, and Sarah collapsed back against the pillows, her mind in an uproar. Not dreaming…the worst part, she thought bitterly, was how easily she managed to believe it, to believe that she was back Underground. Even after seven years of telling herself that it was a fantasy, she didn't doubt the Goblin King's words. But then again, maybe the worst part was the relief: the relief that Jareth, the dark knight of her dreams, was real.

Precious. He had called her Precious. _Just relax, and let him explain_, a large part of her mind was saying, the part that had yearned for the dreams back aboveground and that part that purred like a stroked cat when he had called her that. _You're back where you belong now, back where you should have stayed. Forget your other life, forget Adrian, just accept this. This is what you truly desire. _

'Well, I guess I'll find out if it's real or not soon enough,' Sarah said feebly, mostly to herself. If she didn't wake up, then it wasn't a dream. She turned her wide green eyes back to the king and said, in a strangled voice, 'What's Samhain?'

She must not give in to him. She couldn't remember why, but it was very important. She had to save someone, to rescue someone he had stolen…or was she the one who needed rescuing?

'Samhain, summer's end,' he snapped. 'After what you saw, with me, how could you possibly not pay attention to the ancient legends? Did you really occupy yourself with cheap fiction for your entire life? It was understandable when you were a child, but really. And now, thanks to your ignorance, you have been kidnapped by an Unseelie King. What were you thinking, to marry on Samhain?'

So King Jareth had kidnapped her. What did he intend to do? Force her to accept him, or punish her for having rejected him all those years ago? And what was all that about November first? That she had chosen that day to marry was apparently his excuse for kidnapping her. More likely, she thought furiously, he couldn't accept the fact that she had fallen in love with someone else, and the day of the ceremony made no difference. Rage was rising within her, frothing and boiling and crushing down the part of her that had always craved his company.

'Kidnapped. So that's it. I suppose I should have expected you to come back for me. You did seem like a very sore loser. Don't worry, though, I know how to get out of here, don't I?' Sarah spoke tauntingly, or as tauntingly as she could manage with her heart hammering in her chest and her throat as dry as concrete.

She didn't say the six magic words yet, though, hesitating for just a moment, a small part of her still hoping that she wouldn't have to reject this dream again. Maybe he could be talked into letting her visit on occasion, to satisfy her addiction to magic and fantasy.

The king's thoughts clearly weren't as friendly, though, because at her words he let out a harsh growl of laughter, cruel and mocking and absolutely furious.

'You think that, do you, you little mortal wench? You think that I would want you back here, that I would deign to give you another chance? You think I want you anywhere near my realm, you ungrateful, treacherous whore? No, _Precious_, I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I rescued you from seven years as a concubine of the darkest, cruellest king in Faerie, so perhaps, as your fate is in my hands, it would be wise to show just a touch of gratitude.

'And whatever you may think, you do not know how to get back aboveground. This time around, Dearest, I have an unspeakable amount of power over you, and you would do well to remember it. No, the only way you are getting out of here is if darling _Adrian_ comes to rescue you. And if he knew even the first thing about Faerie he would not have married on Samhain, so I doubt he will have much success. No, Sarah, you will remain here, in my court, mine to do with as I will, for seven years.'

With that Jareth stood, his cloak swirling behind him, knocking the chair over in his fury. With a flourish of his gloved hand he conjured another crystal ball and smashed it against the bedpost. Immediately, thick, dark chains appeared, binding Sarah's arms and legs to the bed. Smiling cruelly, he turned and headed to the door.

'And remember, Precious,' Jareth said as he turned the knob, 'seven years in Faerie can be a thousand or more on Earth.'

* * *

Jareth stormed through the halls of his castle, conjuring and smashing crystals for no reason other than the incontrollable need to express his fury. How dare she speak to him like that? After he had accepted her rejection and left her to live her life as she would, how dare she accuse him of taking petty vengeance? Why had he bothered saving her from Finvarra—living as his slave would have been no more than she deserved. After all, she'd had the choice of being his, Jareth's, bride. It seemed fitting that, as one king wasn't good enough for her, she found herself forced into service to another.

'Aelfric,' Jareth, snapped, smashing yet another crystal. This time, however, there was a purpose in it, and within a few minutes his chief advisor strode down the hall towards him in answer to the summons.

'My lord,' Aelfric said, bowing. Despite his display of reverence, the goblin was actually one of Jareth's greatest and most trusted friends.

'Aelfric, there is a human woman in the Spring Room. Take her and bring her to the dungeons. Put her in a cell alone, and I will deal with her later.'

'Yes, my lord,' Aelfric said, bowing again, and he turned to follow the instructions. Jareth knew that later, when his temper wasn't so clearly incensed, his friend would question him, but at the moment he didn't care.

Far away, the sounds of the Samhain party hummed softly. Jareth stood still, feeling suddenly drained, as his friend retreated. He had been determined to treat Sarah fairly, even kindly, and thought that he had been doing a pretty good job. Even when she said that name…_Adrian_…with longing and veneration in her voice, making it clear that she had submit to him as she would never submit to Jareth, he had remained calm. But when she had spoken to him in that accusing tone, so arrogantly assuming that he was bent on revenge, and when she had referenced how easily he had been defeated on their last confrontation, something had snapped within him.

Why couldn't she accept his kindness? He wasn't a cruel person, he had never done anything to hurt her. Why couldn't she see that?

'Why couldn't you love me!' Jareth cried, turning and slamming his globed fist against the wall, the air shimmering darkly with his barely contained magic. He hadn't intended to speak out loud, but it felt good to scream. Again and again he pounded his fist on the stone wall. What had he done wrong, twenty years ago? He had done everything she wanted.

'Jareth…Jareth, calm down,' a silky voice said behind him as a pair of slender hands gripped his shoulders. Of course, Finvarra had to witness his moment of weakness. Finvarra, who had never loved anyone, who had married only to appease hi desire and who sought his pleasure among human women at every opportunity. Why couldn't it have been Midir, who understood love?

'Finvarra. There was no need for you to leave the celebration,' Jareth said, straining to keep his voice even.

'It bored me, and I wanted to see what had become of your little prisoner. Aelfric told me you had her sent to the dungeons.'

'So I did. I know not what I will do with her, so I am having her imprisoned until I figure it out.'

'Can I guess, then, that she did not please you upon awakening?' Finvarra asked, his voice wry. He took Jareth's arm and began leading him down the hall.

'There is very little she could have done to please me,' Jareth growled. 'I suppose if she had felt some terrible, physical and psychological pain the moment she awakened, so powerful that it left her screaming in agony, then perhaps I would have been satisfied.'

'That can be arranged,' Finvarra told Jareth, his eyes glinting darkly, but Jareth sighed and shook his head as they reached his chambers.

'What am I supposed to do with her? Is there no way to send her back Aboveground?'

'None. She must remain here seven Fae years, unless her betrothed manages to rescue her. But never mind what you are _supposed_ to do, Jareth. What do you _want_ to do with her?'

With a grating sigh Jareth collapsed into a chair, automatically conjuring a pair of crystals in one hand.

'I had everything planned out, Finvarra. I gave her the book, and the power to wish, and I was certain that she would wish to see me. Instead, though, she wished away her little brother. She was far too young to join me then, of course, but…to actually speak with her, in the flesh, not in a land spun of dreams, was indescribable, and I tried to convince her to come to me. I played her all wrong, though, and in the end she rejected me, rejected everything I offered her, rejected my love, and managed to get both herself and her brother home.'

Jareth closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them they burned with a terrible fury which seemed very at odds to the tender, broken voice he'd used a moment earlier.

'I want her to suffer, Finvarra, for what she did to me. For so long I resisted revenge, seeing it as beneath me. But now she has been handed to me on an iron platter, and I intend to make the most of it.' Then he exhaled loudly in frustration, and once again smashed the crystals against the floor, where the shards immediately evaporated. 'Despite all of that, though, I still want her,' he hissed, his fingers tightening on the arms of his chair.

'Well, you can have her, Jareth. After all, she is yours for seven years, and you can do whatever you like with her.' The relish in Finvarra's voice caused even Jareth to avert his eyes to the Unseelie King's enjoyment of cruelty.

'You misunderstand me, Finvarra. What I want is for her belong to me, heart, soul, body, mind and spirit. I want every part of her, not by means of enchantment, but because she gives herself to me. I want to own her. I want her to become and remain my willing and eager slave.'

Jareth's words rang through the room, his fury and determination sounding in each syllable. Finvarra paused, watching the malice that rose in his vassal's mismatched blue eyes.

'And, my friend,' the Goblin King continued, 'I intend to get exactly what I want.'

* * *

_"Hell hath no fury like a Goblin King scorned"_

_And yes, he can conjure chains to bind Sarah to a bed. That might come in handy later on ;)_

_By the way, please pay attention to the stanzas at the beginning of each chapter_

_Thanks for reading, and I really hope you liked it! _


	5. Chapter 5

_Again, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favourited, etc. I hope you're not disappointed. _

_Thanks for reading :)_

* * *

"_I shine more brightly than the stars_

_A searing light seen from afar_

_But I am darkness through and through_

_And I will steal your heart from you."_

**Chapter 5**

Sarah sat on the cold stone floor of her cell, her arms wrapped around her torso as she tried to warm herself. Her bare shoulders shivered in the damp air, and it was so dark that she could hardly make out the dim confines of the prison. All around, though, there were the sounds of other prisoners, moaning, crying, whimpering, and Sarah wondered fearfully if the king intended to keep her here in the dungeons for seven years. She couldn't have been down there more than a day, but she felt despair creeping through her. How would she feel after months and years?

Suddenly, without warning, the cell was flooded with blue light. Sarah blinked and shielded her eyes, and when she looked back up the Goblin King himself was standing outside the bars, holding a glowing crystal in one hand. Wordlessly, he unlocked the door and stepped in.

Sarah stared at him from her position on the floor, wishing that she was standing but unwilling to rise in case he saw it as a sign of respect. Instead she just set her jaw and glared at him as he stalked closer.

'I insist that you let me go home,' she said after a moment, managing to keep her voice steady and her glower in place.

'Now, now, Sarah,' the king replied in a soft, dangerous voice. 'I thought I had made it clear that you are not going anywhere. For the time being you are my subject, and you will act like one. And when I enter a room,' he added, his voice lower still, 'my subjects bow.' Stopping a few feet away from her, he regarded her in silence, waiting.

'I will never bow to you, you filthy rat,' Sarah snapped, fury leaking into her words. She knew that insulting him probably wasn't wise, but on the other hand it didn't look like her situation could get any worse. 'I thought I'd made that clear seven years ago.'

Jareth's eyes flashed in rage at her words, but his voice remained calm and calculated. 'Remember, Sarah, that I have absolute power over you this time. I can be cruel, although thus far I have refrained, and should you fail to show me the proper respect…' He trailed off, leaving his threat hanging in the air between them. Sarah tossed her head and looked away.

'I'm not afraid of you, and besides, I'm already in the dungeons. I'd sooner stay here forever than bow to the likes of you.'

'Is that so?' purred Jareth. 'That's _such_ a pity. But there's something else you should know. I have power over you because you were Samhain's Bride. Fortunately for me, that also gives me the right to do anything and everything to darling Adrian.'

Sarah's breath caught in her throat.

'No,' she said, turning her gaze back to his, fear gripping her like an iron claw, 'no, you're lying. Adrian's aboveground, you can't hurt him.'

'Poor Sarah, so unversed in her mythology. You may not believe me, yet—but are you willing to take the chance?' His satisfied smirk made it clear that he knew he had won. Sarah stared up at him in horror and loathing for a moment, and then slowly uncrossed her arms and raised herself onto her knees. Placing her hands on the floor, she curved her shoulders and lowered her head, her eyes squeezing closed in humiliation.

Jareth stared in satisfaction at the girl on her knees at his feet, and almost felt as though he had already won. This was how it should be, and this was how it would be: Sarah, kneeling in submission. Soon, though, she would do it for him alone, not for the sake of some human man.

'Very good, my pet,' he whispered gently. 'That is how you greet a king.' He paused for a moment, relishing the moment, and then stepped back. If she had had any experience dealing with royalty, she would have known that she was allowed to rise.

'Now, although it may surprise you,' Jareth went on, glancing in disgust around the prison cell, 'I did not come down here to torment you.' He paused, waiting.

Sarah clearly didn't want to oblige him by asking, so they remained in silence for a long moment before she finally sighed in defeat and said, her face still turned to the floor, 'Then why are you here?'

'I have come because, as you will be here for the next seven years, I thought that you might appreciate some more information. If you would not, simply say so and I will leave.' He raised one eyebrow questioningly, keeping the rest of his face entirely blank. Sarah glanced up at him in surprise, her cheeks still stained with red humiliation, before turning her face back to the floor. Jareth was sure that her desire for more information was at war with her desire to get away from him and reject his act of kindness. Finally, though, the former seemed to win out, because with a soft sigh she said,

'No, I would appreciate it.'

'Stand up, then. I refuse to stay in this dingy cell.' At his words Sarah got to her feet. Jareth's eyes darkened as he watched her spine unfurl, but when she has straightened up and turned to look at him his face was once again blankly arrogant.

'Come, we shall go to my study to talk,' he told her, and she turned to the door. Smirking, Jareth took a step forward and grabbed her, wrapping his arms tightly around her back and holding her flush against him. Sarah cried out and tried to fight him, but Jareth ignored her and wordlessly pulled her through time and space. It only took a second, and then the two of them materialized in his study with a shower of sparkles that disappeared before they hit the floor.

Jareth had intended to shock and frighten her by grabbing her, but the feeling of holding her in his arms was so overwhelming that all other thoughts were wiped from his mind. Her cheek rested against his shoulder and even though her every muscle was stiff, she still felt unbearably soft. His mind flew to the ball of twenty years ago, the only other time he'd ever held her, and his eyes fluttered closed, his touch automatically turning gentle.

Then, after less than a second, she tore herself away. Of course she did. As always, she turned harshly away from him, refusing to believe, for even an instant, that he might not be as cruel as she insisted he was. Immediately, his anger and bitterness flooded back and he stepped backwards, crossing his arms and feeling his face turn scornful and amused.

Sarah, who apparently hadn't noticed that they'd travelled by magic to a different room, looked around in shock.

'Oh…' she said lamely, realizing why he'd grabbed her. 'Oh, I…sorry.' Jareth smiled cruelly at her apology, tempted to ask her what she was apologizing for.

'You may sit, if you like,' he replied grandly, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk as he sank into the one behind it. Sarah paused and then sat tentatively on the edge of the chair, her eyes guarded and defiant. They watched each other in silence for a time, and then she said, 'Well? You said you were going to explain things. I still don't understand why I'm here. You said…you said it wasn't you. So who was it?'

Jareth paused before answering, measuring his words. He had decided against keeping her in the prison for seven years, but he still wasn't certain how much information he wanted to give her.

'His majesty Finvarra, High King of the Unseelie Court, kidnapped you. I cannot explain all about the courts now, but no doubt you will learn in time. All you have to know is that he is one of the two most powerful people in all of Faerie. There are many rules concerning the capture of mortals. It is traditional to steal a bride on Samhain, if one is available, but he was only able to take you because you were already touched.

'Touched?' Sarah cut in, her posture rigid in the seat across from him. With a small thrill of pleasure, he realized that she feared him. That was the first step, was it not? _Fear me, love me, do as I say…_that was what he had told her two decades ago, and so it would be. This time, though, he wasn't offering to be her slave; instead, she would be his.

'Touched by the Fae,' he explained, refusing to grow distracted. 'Remnants of your last sojourn here. No doubt you have seen us, on occasion, even in the city, where we venture so rarely.'

'So that was it? I was _touched_, that's why I saw those things?' Jareth couldn't miss the relief in her eyes, and he supposed that she had thought she was insane. The expression softened her face, opening it up and easing her lovely features from the tensed pinch they'd been trapped in a moment earlier. Jareth dragged his own eyes across her face, savouring each detail. She looked different than she had, more mature, less innocent and less optimistic and hopeful. Her body had matured too, he couldn't help noticing as his eyes skipped over her bare shoulders and the bodice of her dress. Last time he had seen her she had worn a ridiculously loose t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and now he found himself wondering what it would be like to pull the gown the rest of the way off of her shoulders, to cup her firm, round breasts in his hands, to lower his lips to her creamy neck and shoulders…

Furious with himself, Jareth tore his eyes from her body and looked her in the face again.

'Yes, exactly,' he said. 'How much time has passed in your world since you were last here?' he asked, since it obviously hadn't been twenty years.

'Seven,' she answered immediately, and Jareth realized with cruel delight that she had kept count. He decided not to tell her that he had, too, so he only nodded, trying to decide what to tell her next. Before he could, though, she spoke again.

'Is it true, then, that time runs differently here? What you said before—that I could spend seven years here, and that a thousand could pass on Earth?' She sounded desperate again, and angry and forlorn.

'It is. And unfortunately for you, you are obliged to stay here seven years, unless your betrothed comes and wins you back. I already asked Finvarra, and he told me that there is no other way.' There was no need to tell her that time seemed to be passing more quickly in Faerie than on Earth at the moment. 'And because he clearly knows nothing about Faerie, it seems unlikely that Adrian will come.'

'_Adrian_,' Sarah said, her voice saturated with longing. Jareth clenched his fists under the desk, but said nothing. It didn't matter—she was never going to see Adrian again; she was his now, or would be soon, at any rate. Before long that name would mean nothing to her.

'Has anything happened to him? Did the people who took me hurt him? Does he know that I'm okay?'

'He is perfectly all right,' Jareth told her, his voice flawlessly even and amused. 'Probably a little bit annoyed at the moment, since it seems that his bride disappeared just a few minutes before he was to wed her, but I do not doubt that he will get over it eventually.'

'Can't I send him a message? I can't just let him think that I walked out on him, leaving him at the altar.' Sarah looked around as though searching for a mailbox, but eventually was forced to turn her green eyes back to Jareth's.

'Well, that might not be the case,' Jareth admitted, thoroughly enjoying causing her worry, even as the cause of it tore at him ruthlessly. 'Sometimes when adult mortals are taken a log of bog wood is enchanted to look like the human and put in the place of the prisoner, and the phantom mortal appears to die soon after. So it may be that Adrian thinks you have died, not abandoned him.'

'Was that meant as comfort?' Sarah snapped, her eyes flashing and her hands wringing in her lap. She brought a hand to her face momentarily, and when she lowered it she was composed again. Jareth had to admire her strength. 'You said that someone named, um, Finvarra captured me. So why am I here with you?'

'He gave you to me as a Samhain gift. I took you because I did not think that you would relish the idea of spending seven years as his slave and concubine—but then, perhaps I misjudge you.'

Sarah stared into the distance for a moment, clearly trying to get a grip on everything that had happened. Jareth watched her, his desire to savour her presence at odds with his desire to say more things to hurt her. Finally, she spoke again.

'Is this really just a coincidence, then?' she asked softly, turning her wide eyes back to his. 'Just an unhappy coincidence that I've ended up here in your court?'

'Believe me, Sarah, I was just as surprised to see you as you were to see me,' he answered, and then shook himself mentally; he shouldn't have given her so honest an answer. There was an awkward silence as they stared at one another, and then Sarah turned her eyes away again.

'Can I access a library or something? I want to see if I can find a way out of here. There must be a loophole to let me go home. I don't suppose you have internet access down here…' she mused, and Jareth decided to ignore her last sentence, since he didn't understand it.

'I have several extensive libraries in my castle, and there are more down in the city. You can visit them, I suppose, but I hope you do not think that you will be spending your time here as an honoured guest.'

'I didn't think that,' Sarah replied, looking back over at him. 'I just wasn't sure if I wanted to ask what you are going to do with me. If I can go to the library and the city then is it fair to assume that I'm not going to spending them in prison or an oubliette?'

'I considered it, and should you displease me that may well be your fate,' Jareth replied, 'but for the time being I have decided to make you a servant. You will have a set of duties to perform, and you will be at the beck and call of my household, my guests, and anyone whose station is above your own. Which is pretty much everyone.' He paused, watching to see her reaction, and was not disappointed.

'A servant,' she repeated, her eyes hardening and her jaw clenching. She turned away, silent for a moment, and Jareth was surprised to see that she had developed a certain amount of control over her temper during the last few years. 'Why?' she finally asked. 'You've made it perfectly clear that you don't want me here. Why can't I just leave?'

'Because you would never survive,' Jareth replied. 'You may not believe it, but I am not so heartless a person that I will allow you to go off to certain death. Therefore you must remain in my court, and since you have made it perfectly clear on past occasions that you do not want to be a lady here, you must be a servant.' His tone was mocking, and none of the bitterness he felt leaked into his voice. Sarah didn't have as much control as he did, though, for she flinched and turned away, and Jareth couldn't help his arrogant smirk.

'You must know that I'm not just going to accept this,' she told him angrily when she turned back to face him. 'I will fight this with everything I have until I am free.'

Jareth's smile widened. She was agreeing to be his servant, at least until she could find a way out. Now, at last, she would see the dark side of the Underground, darker by far than cleaners that he would never have let hurt her or a stench that he could easily have magicked away had it touched her; she would see the darker side of him, far darker than a few mocking words or an army of pages and squires with strict orders not to touch her; she would see the darker side of life, where all of her courage and dreams and friends would be useless against the bitterness and cruelty of the world.

'You will be here for a long time, then,' he told her smoothly, conjuring a crystal in one hand and smiling as her eyes followed it with fascination she couldn't control. 'Because here, you have nothing.'


	6. Chapter 6

_Hear the springtime in my words_

_Loveliest song you've ever heard_

_Hear not the harsh and stormy weather_

_That will seal you to me forever. _

**Chapter 6**

Sarah was shown to a miniscule stone room by a goblin woman with nut-brown skin and a round, pleasant face who introduced herself as Bronwyn.

'I'll collect you at dawn tomorrow and bring you to the kitchens, but from then on you'll have to get up on your own. You'll be given breakfast, and then your assignments,' the goblin told her with a smile. 'What's your name again?'

'Sarah,' Sarah answered monotonously. Bronwyn seemed very nice, but all she wanted was to be alone. Her head was spinning, and she was finding it hard to think. 'Thank you.'

'My pleasure, child. You chose a busy time to come into service, though—after the Samhain celebration there'll be a lot to do. Now get a good night's sleep, and I'll see you in the morning.' With another smile Bronwyn stepped towards the door.

'Wait!' Sarah cried. There was a question she had to ask, a question that had been tearing at her all through her meeting with the King but which she had refused to voice, for fear of the consequences. But it was probably safe to ask this kind-hearted servant. 'I'm looking for three people: a gardener dwarf named Hoggle, a fox-terrier named Didymus who used to guard the Bog of Eternal Stench and a…well, I'm not quite sure what he is, but his name is Ludo. They're friends of mine.' Sarah suddenly remembered that the King had asked her how much time had passed Aboveground. Why hadn't she asked the same about the Underground? Who knew where her old friends were now.

'I'm afraid they don't sound familiar,' Bronwyn answered. 'But you can ask around. Good night now.'

Sarah waited until Bronwyn had left and shut the door, and then collapsed on the hard, uncomfortable mattress. She bit her lip to try to keep herself from crying, but still the tears leaked from her eyes and her shoulders heaved. How could this have happened to her? She had rejected magic. The night after her first adventure in the Labyrinth she'd put away the book and all of the little toys she had made herself, modeled after the characters she had read about. After the party her friends had thrown her she had refused to call on them again, refused to need them; she had put childish things away, she had stopped believing in magic. So why was she here, now? It just…wasn't…fair.

Laughing weakly through her tears, Sarah forced herself to sit up. There was a basin of water in the corner and she stumbled over to it to splash her face, and then pulled her torn and filthied wedding gown, which she had spent so many hours choosing and designing, over her head to don the simple white night dress that had been provided for her. Then, shivering more from stress and fear than from cold, she curled up in the uncomfortable bed.

If only she had a friend, just one person she could trust, in this place. Of course, there was no certainty that Hoggle, Ludo and Didymus would accept her even if she could find them, since she hadn't contacted them in years, but she still longed for a familiar face—besides the King's, of course.

Not that it really mattered if they would forgive her or not, she supposed, since it didn't look like she'd ever see them again. The one person who might know what had happened to them was the King, and he was the one person she wasn't going to ask. It was very possible that he had punished them for helping her last time, and she certainly wasn't going to remind him of their involvement in case he hadn't.

* * *

Jareth sat alone in his study, staring at Sarah's sleeping face. In rest her worries and tension seemed to melt away, her brow smoothing and her lips parting slightly, but the salty tracks left by her tears still shone on her cheeks. While she had wept it had taken his every ounce of determination not to go to her, to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he hadn't let himself. Now he released the crystal he held, in which her face was reflected, and let it float in the air before him as he dug his gloved fingers in the arms of his chair. This was going to be hard, very hard; but he could do it, and in the end she would be his. First, though, he had to make certain that she had no one else to depend on.

With an angry flick of his wrist he conjured another crystal. It took considerable effort to scry someone so far away, but he ignored his exhaustion and gazed into the glass until that repulsive dwarf whom Sarah had so adored appeared. Just the sight of the treacherous little vermin angered him, and as soon as he was certain that the creature was nowhere near his city he sent his magic after the lumbering orange brute that had followed her around like a puppy dog, and then after the ridiculously courageous fox-terrier who had, at one time, guarded the bridge in the Bog of Eternal Stench. None of them were anywhere nearby, thankfully.

Jareth leaned back in his chair, his attention directed once more towards Sarah's sleeping face. He wished now that he had just had the three traitors executed twenty years ago, but he hadn't wanted to deal with it at the time, so he'd just exiled them. At least there was no way for Sarah to find them. It had galled him to hear her ask the other servant about them, with such affection in her voice.

With a sigh, Jareth took up the crystal trained on Sarah and transported himself to his bedroom. He had work to do, but no strength to do it, so he simply pulled off his clothes and let himself sink into bed. After lying down, he set the crystal, still scrying his beloved Sarah's face, on the pillow beside him. She was the last thing Jareth saw before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The next morning Jareth could have slept until noon, if he hadn't charmed a bell to ring and awaken him at the proper time.

_I am the king_, he thought irritably as he forced himself to rise, _I should by able to run my kingdom on my own schedule. Why should I wake early just because my citizens want to? _

Nonetheless, he dragged himself to the adjoining room where servants had already prepared a large tub full of hot water for him to bathe. He had so much to do today…many of his citizens had chosen rather rowdy ways to celebrate Samhain, and as a result he would have to settle countless disputes and carefully scour the whole countryside with magic to make certain that no mortals had been hurt. Besides that there was the treaty with Queen Aoibhinn of North Munster, whose ambassador was causing no end of trouble, and he would have to spend hours bidding farewell to all of his Samhain guests. _Sometimes I wonder why I bother holding parties_, he thought to himself and he pulled himself from the water and magicked himself dry.

And then, the most pressing of all, there was Sarah to attend to. Sighing heavily, Jareth walked over to where his clothes had been laid out by the servants and pulled them on, lost in thought. He sat down, fastening his boots, carefully analysing everything that had happened since her appearance in his court.

She had at first seemed so…relaxed. Perhaps it was simply the enchanted sleep, but she hadn't seemed at all alarmed; in fact, she'd seemed at ease and at peace. Or perhaps he was just deluding himself. And then there was her strange behaviour upon awakening.

First, before he'd spoken, she'd smiled, her eyes still closed, as she snuggled deeper into the bed he'd laid her in. But she must have known that she wasn't at home, must have known that something was wrong. Even after he alerted her to his presence, though, she had still relaxed. Her words then had been garbled and nonsensical and Jareth hadn't paid them much heed, since she'd just awakened from an enchanted sleep, but now he thought back, wondering. She had asked why they weren't dancing, and said that they usually were. And she had thought that she was dreaming. Could that mean…could it possibly mean…that she had dreamt of him? Dreamt that she was back with him, dancing in the ball he'd fashioned from her dreams?

At the thought he felt his heart and lungs constrict. But he was probably only deluding himself. After all, if she had spent seven years dreaming of him then she certainly wouldn't have chosen to marry another man. Would she?

Before Jareth could follow this train of thought conclusively a tentative knock came on the door of the servant's entrance, and with a flick of his fingers he unlocked it. After breakfast he would meet with Finvarra to discuss the problem with Aoibhinn.

Behind him, the door opened and cautious footsteps entered the room, treading over to his desk to set down his morning meal. Jareth's agitation grew and he glowered at the wall, trying to suppress the strange feelings he felt welling within him, no doubt as a result of his continued brooding over Sarah. Determinedly telling himself to ignore them, he stood and addressed the servant.

'Dedalus, bring a message to King Finvarra telling him…' Jareth's voice died in his throat as he turned and beheld the very object of his obsessions, watching him awkwardly. She stood by the desk where the tray was set, wearing the uniform of his female servants, a simple green dress with a starched white collar and bonnet, with his personal insignia embroidered on the yoke in black. There was a long moment of silence.

'What are you doing here?' Jareth finally managed to say. He had planned on seeing her today, of course, but wasn't prepared to deal with it so early in the morning, and his voice sounded oddly strangled even to his own ears.

'I—' Sarah paused and cleared her throat, glancing away, and then looked him straight in the eye and said, 'They told me that since I'm the newest servant, and since I'm human, I have to bring you your meals, if you'll take them in private.'

'I see,' replied Jareth, rapidly regaining his composure. Part of him wanted to command her to lower her eyes, as befit her station, but the other part cherished the sight of them, staring into his. He swallowed and automatically conjured a crystal, spinning it blindly between two fingers. Immediately, Sarah's eyes found the glass orb, and Jareth found himself smiling cruelly; after all this time and so much denial, she still wanted it.

'Well, they have obviously not managed to teach you any manners,' he told her. 'I am your king, remember?'

'They told me to curtsy,' Sarah quickly said, clearly not wanting to get the other servants in trouble; her concern for the wellbeing of others was as always both endearing and infuriating. 'But you were facing the other direction, so…' It was very obvious that she found speaking difficult around him, just as she had twenty years ago. Jareth's smile widened and he tried to think of a plausible reason to keep her with him for longer, but nothing came to mind so he simply approached the table and sat down, eyes glinting as she backed away from him.

'Bring this to King Finvarra,' he told her, conjuring another crystal and holding it out to her. Dedalus he would have trusted with the message, but Sarah was another matter. When she didn't take the glimmering sphere he looked up in irritation, and saw her standing back, watching him suspiciously and fearfully. He sighed.

'It will not hurt you,' he promised. 'It will not show your dreams, or anything at all, for that matter. It is just a message for the High King. Now take it.' Still she stood by, defiance overpowering her fear: she refused to obey him.

'Sarah,' Jareth sighed, his voice like wind like the whisper of wind through trees, 'make this easy for yourself. If you fight me on everything your life will be very difficult, when all I want is for the next seven years to run smoothly. I am only trying to get a message to Finvarra. Will you deliver it?'

After a long moment, Sarah reached out and took the crystal, careful not to let her fingers brush his. She then retreated, not backing up, as she should, but hurriedly and watching him over shoulder. Only when she reached the door did she remember, belatedly, to curtsy. After having done so, her cheeks flushed with humiliation and anger at the show of reverence, she retreated, crystal in hand, as Jareth turned with great satisfaction to his meal: she had done what he said.

After breakfast, before dealing with Aoibhinn, he would summon Bronwyn. He hadn't like how friendly the goblin had been with Sarah the night before, and would have to make sure to cut the relationship short before it flourished. From now on, she could rely on no one but him. Until she submit to him she would have no friends, and once she had she'd have no desire to be with anyone else…ever.


	7. Chapter 7

'_I am thunder, I am rain_

_From the depths of time I came_

_And I am here to break you down_

_So come accept my thornèd crown.'_

**Chapter 7**

For four weeks Jareth watched Sarah. He performed his duties as king, as usual, dealing with his neighbours and his citizens, but he no longer lingered in the dining hall to speak with the lords and ladies of his court, he no longer rode out across the sky with his host at dusk and he no longer frolicked, singing and dancing, with his goblin friends. Instead he sat in his study or his private chambers, singing softly to himself, as he observed her through a crystal, or, whenever he dared, assumed his owl form and followed her outside the castle to watch her with his own eyes. His friends grew worried, wondering what had their king so troubled that it consumed all of his time, but he confided in none of them (although some certainly remembered the events of twenty years past and guessed at his obsession). For a month Jareth watched, waiting for his chance.

Sarah wandered through his castle, losing herself constantly in the ever-changing halls and passageways. She performed her duties when they were assigned, but everything was hard for her and she was often reprimanded. Even so, the determination and stoicism that had been his downfall twenty years ago held out, despite the fact that, in spite of her efforts, no one befriended her this time around, and many goblins, especially the younger ones, were downright cruel. Even his other human servants—and there were a few—avoided her, thanks to Jareth's careful planning.

Still, Sarah held out. At night, when no one was around, Jareth would watch her sink into tears, sobbing despite her efforts not to, and each time he yearned to go to her, regretted each thing he'd done to make her time Underground more difficult and resolved to be kind to her from then on. But then, the next morning, when she brought him his breakfast, her constantly defiant eyes tore at him, and he stuck to his plan. For the next step, though, he needed her to be weak, and for a month she remained forever strong, outside her own private chambers. Finally, though, after four weeks of watching and waiting, his chance came.

Jareth was in his bedroom, reclining in an armchair with one leg thrown casually over the arm, watching her idly as she carried a basket of freshly-laundered linen to replace the bedding for some of the nobility. As he watched, a small, young goblin rushed past and tripped her before bouncing off, laughing, and Sarah, her hands full, fell to the floor. The basket tipped, the white sheets tumbling across the dirty stone as she struck the ground hard. When she didn't get up immediately Jareth worriedly changed the view he had of her, concerned that she'd hurt herself, but then saw to his at once horror and delight that she lay still on the floor, crying. Finally, this one small offence had broken her resilience, and it was all just too much for her to handle.

* * *

Sarah lay on the floor. She knew that she should get up and go and wash the soiled linen once again, but she couldn't find the strength. Tears streamed down her face and her chest and shoulders heaved as she sobbed, sprawled on the ground. She just couldn't take it anymore.

'Sarah?' She knew that voice. The voice from her dreams, the voice that always brought a deep sense of longing, and of peace, but which she knew was dangerous. A voice from which she yearned to draw comfort, but feared to trust. The Goblin King's voice. Of course, he was here to witness her at her lowest.

Slender fingers gently grasped her shoulders and pulled her to her knees. Despite herself Sarah leaned into the touch, relishing it, for it was the first time in a month that anyone had touched her at all, or shown her any kindness. She didn't understand their constant cruelty, but then, she didn't understand much about this place.

'Sarah, are you all right? What happened?' Was she imagining the kindness and tenderness in his velvet voice? Was her desire to be cared for convincing her that she was?

'I'm fine. I just tripped…' But Sarah's voice broke at the end of the sentence and she lowered her head, trying desperately to gain control of herself. It was strange, how his voice washed over her. He'd hardly said a word to her in four weeks, even though she brought him breakfast almost every day, because their conversation could not progress past king and servant. Not that Sarah wanted to talk with him, anyway.

'Are you so miserable here?' he asked, his voice sad, as he pulled her back to lean against him, his hands still on her shoulders. Unable to speak, overwhelmed by just the one small act of kindness, Sarah closed her eyes to try to keep the tears from falling. The king sighed. 'Come,' he whispered, and then pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, transporting them both to his private salon.

After a month of cold, harsh words and incessant commands, of mourning for everyone she loved and dealing with the constant humiliation of being the lowliest of servants, the feeling of a warm embrace was like a spring breeze after a long winter. Sarah, despite her fear and suspicion, melted into the Goblin King's arms, sobbing into his chest, her pride forgotten. Even after they had materialized in his rooms she didn't pull away, allowing him to hold and comfort her.

'Come now, Precious…do not cry,' he whispered, and the kind words, echoing those spoken by her parents, friends and fiancé just sent fresh tears down her cheeks, both in response to his compassion and in bereavement over those she had lost.

At last, though, she remembered herself. Her sobs quieted, her heaving shoulders stilled, her eyes, though still wet, ceased the flow of tears, and she found herself standing in the arms of the Goblin King, the one person she should trust least in her moment of weakness. Her face was pressed to his chest, her hands clutched at him and all of her weight she leaned on him; were he to drop her, she would fall, once again, to the unforgiving stone floor. Every muscle in Sarah's body stiffened.

Immediately, the King stepped back, pushing her gently onto a deliciously soft sofa, far softer than anything she'd felt since first waking from her enchanted sleep. Furious with herself, Sarah rubbed the wetness from her face and ran her fingers through her dishevelled hair.

'What do you want?' she asked angrily, crossing her arms across the ridiculous costume she was forced to wear.

'Always so hostile, Sarah?' he sighed, sitting down beside her. 'I came across you sprawled on the floor, crying. Can I not offer comfort?'

'I don't trust you, Goblin King, and I never will. Why should you want to help me? I apologize for my behaviour, now—'

'You have just said it, Sarah: I am the king. And as king it is my duty to look after the well-being and happiness of my subjects. Besides that, I am responsible for you for the duration of your time here, and besides that, although you refuse to believe it…I am not so cold-hearted a person that I do not seek to comfort a woman in distress.' The king's words were spoken softly and sincerely, and they cut through Sarah's anger. Once again, the kindness was her undoing and she was forced to look away, realizing that she had been spoiled for love Aboveground. Now, alone, she was desperate for whatever generosity was offered, even if it came from the greatest villain of her life.

'Well…thank you. Sorry,' she said awkwardly, telling herself firmly that she didn't believe a word he said. He was probably just trying to throw her off her guard, soften her up…

_That's awfully arrogant,_ a treacherous part of her mind whispered. _To insist that his life revolves around you? You didn't believe that he loved you seven years ago, and he's left you alone since then; why would he suddenly want revenge now? Why should he care if you're happy or not? _

'Sarah, you are obviously miserable in my court,' the king said, and Sarah turned back to him silently; she couldn't deny it. 'Tell me, then, what is wrong?' For a long time she looked at him, thinking, and then, at last, decided to tell him of the grievances that he could change, should he so desire. If he spoke truthfully, and actually wanted to help, then her stay would be marginally easier. And if he wanted to hurt and manipulate her, then she wouldn't have given him much ammunition.

'I can't keep up with all the work I'm supposed to be doing,' she blurted out in a rush. 'None of the other servants finish all their chores, but somehow they get away with it. Half of the stuff I'm assigned isn't even possible! And I can't figure out how to get around your stupid castle and everything keeps changing, and whenever I ask someone they point me in the wrong direction. If I don't finish my work—which I can't possibly do—then I'm given more the next day, as punishment. And everywhere your pesky goblins pinch me, trip me, hit me; they walk muddy footprints across floors I've just cleaned; they steal the sheets from my bed; they barge into my room in the night.' Sarah paused to take a breath, oddly relieved to have voiced her troubles, even to the unsympathetic ear of the king who imposed them. To her surprise, though, the Goblin King nodded gravely.

'I suppose I should have thought of that before making you a servant: as a mortal, you do not understand the way Faerie courts work, or the way the Good Folk behave. Now that I think about it, expecting you to perform the duties of a servant is ridiculous, especially since you can do no magic.'

'There are other mortals here.'

'Yes, but they have been here since they were young, and have learnt our ways. I will change your duties, Sarah, to something more befitting a human girl, and I will warn my goblins not to torment you. Will that help?' Sarah would have doubted his words, but the concern on his face and the sincerity in his voice caught her accusing reply in her throat. Wordlessly, she nodded. Why not accept his kindness? It would make things slightly better. Then again, with less work to do she'd have more time to miss her friends and her world.

'That is not all, though, is it?' the King said, watching her with his impenetrable mismatched eyes. 'Sarah, I am trying to help you. Tell me what the matter is.'

'Even if you do want to help, you can't,' Sarah whispered, looking away. 'It's this place, it's being here. And you already told me that there's nothing we can do about that for seven years. I haven't had any time to look in the library, but I probably wouldn't be able to find anything, anyway; I know nothing of magic.'

'Why do you hate it here so much? There was a time when living here was your greatest dream.' Sarah flinched, refusing to meet his eye. How had he known what her dreams were, all those years ago? And had he really been offering them?

'In my dreams I was never a servant,' she answered quietly, 'and anyway, that was a long time ago. Since then I've done everything possible to forget about y—about this,' she finished hastily. 'Anyway, I never stopped believing it, but I managed to convince myself that I had,' Sarah went on. 'So now, being back here, is torture. I learned to embrace all of the wonderful things about my world, and—mostly—stop yearning for this one.'

'But there are many wonderful things about the Underground,' the King protested. 'This word is far more beautiful, and magic, Sarah! I remember your love of magic. You cannot possibly have forgotten it?'

'I haven't had a spare moment to appreciate this world. Besides, it isn't just my world I miss, Goblin King, it's the people in it.' _I am so weak,_ Sarah thought to herself. Here she was, spilling her feelings to her sworn enemy. And it felt good, to have someone to talk to. However, she wasn't going to say another word. She would thank him for changing her duties, as he had said he would, and then leave. No more heart-to-heart with the Goblin King.

'Of course,' he said smoothly before she could ask to be dismissed. Or get up and leave without permission, which was probably what she'd have done. 'Your family. You must miss them. Tell me, how is little Ja—Toby doing?'

Once again, Sarah cringed, deciding not to wonder what he'd almost called her brother. 'I haven't seen him—or my father or stepmother—in four years. They—I—well, we didn't exactly get along. And I wanted to give them the chance to have their perfect family, without the adolescent teenager from the failed marriage screwing things up.' No need to tell him the real reason she'd left. No need to tell him how much she loved, adored, cherished her brother. No need to tell him how it was through caring for Toby that she had managed to get over magic, and the Labyrinth and it's hold on her, because it was for his sake that she'd rejected it. No need to tell him how it had been Toby who had eventually caused her to leave her family behind, who had finally driven her away after three years of striving to make peace with her stepmother. In the end, she hadn't been able to handle his eyes, his beautiful, mismatched blue eyes, which were, by some magic, identical to those of the king she had tried to forget.

The king in question, however, looked displeased with this piece of news. Looking into his eyes, Sarah saw a shadow of her beloved, long-lost brother.

'Well, Sarah, I understand if you miss your friends, but can you not make more here? I seem to remember that on your last visit you had no trouble befriending every creature you came across.'

'For some reason everyone seems to hate me. And besides, I can't just make new friends and forget about my old ones! No one here relates to me at all, I wouldn't really be able to talk with them.' She felt herself growing almost angry with the King for not understanding, even though she had firmly decided not to tell him anything. Somehow, though, she couldn't stop talking. What was it about him that always made her do such stupid things? 'It's so hard, being all alone here. I—I miss Adrian,' she whispered, her cheeks flushing faintly, unable to believe that she was talking about this with the Goblin King, the person whose memory had always stood between her and her fiancée. She couldn't look at the king, and he as he said nothing there was nothing to interrupt her thoughts, which were sinking down horrible paths she'd refused to explore before. Lost in her loneliness, Sarah almost forgot who she was talking to, for she went on in a quiet voice.

'That isn't the worst part, though. The worst part is that I don't always miss him. Sometimes I don't think of him at all. Sometimes I'm glad our wedding was interrupted, sometimes…sometimes I feel that I hate him.' Despite her attempts to suppress it, a teardrop ran down her cheek. She was so tired. In all of her time here, she hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep since the first night. If only she wasn't so tired she'd be able to think straight, she'd be able to stop her mouth and heart from spewing these words.

For a long time there was silence. Sarah remained curled on the sofa with her face turned away from the Goblin King. She didn't know what to do. She just wanted to go to sleep, and for everything to be better when she woke up. Finally, the king stirred.

'You look tired, Sarah,' he said softly, guessing her thoughts. 'Go to sleep.' Before she could work up the strength to get up and go to her room, though, she heard the faint sound of a bubble popping, and fell instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Jareth sat perfectly still, watching Sarah sleep. Tentatively, he reached out a hand and smoothed her tear-dampened hair away from her face, tenderness welling within him. She wouldn't have to cry much longer. Soon, he would make her a queen.

It was very surprising that she had been so open with him. Jareth knew that when she awakened she would probably regret having told him anything, and that her openness could probably be attributed more to her state of extreme exhaustion and terrible loneliness than to any trust for him. Indeed, the last four weeks had proven how little she trusted him. She was forever cold, distant and defiant, and her eyes, her cruel, cruel eyes, burned like a brand when she turned them on him. Now, though, in her moment of weakness, she'd had no one else to turn to…which was, of course, exactly what Jareth had planned.

And even better, there was this unexpected gift: her confused feelings about her intended. Of course she didn't love Adrian; how could she? Sarah was his, through and through, and before long she would come to see that. Besides, Jareth had watched Adrian several times over the last month, and realized to his delight that the man was his exact opposite in every way. She had clearly only chosen him in another attempt to escape from her lingering feelings for Jareth himself.

Although he wanted to stay and watch Sarah sleep, and think over all the things she had just told him, he knew that he should go and make arrangements for the next few weeks. He had already, of course, planned out what he would do with Sarah after she finally broke down, what tasks and duties she could have to perform, and so it wouldn't take much effort. With a sigh, he got to his feet.

Jareth's arms and chest still tingled from the lingering warmth of her, and his mind still spun from the sensation of holding her, of comforting her, of having her lean on him. The tenderness was unlike anything else he had ever experienced. Slowly, Jareth stepped closer to her sleeping form, sinking to his knees on the floor before her. Careful not to wake her, he pulled his gloves from his fingers and took her beloved face in his hands, touching her at last. There was no doubt about it: he loved her still, even after all this time.

'Sleep well, dearest one, my precious _Tulipearl_,' he whispered, pressing a kiss to her brow. 'Soon, you will be mine.'

* * *

Tulipearl _means _love_. I found out about the word from a poem called _Woodland Wedding, _by Tony Crowther. If anyone knows any other poems of books concerning Faerie, please message me. _

_Thanks for reading, and to those who reviewed my last chapter :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_So between plane rides, hikes, playing with little cousins and family dinners, I actually managed to write! I hope you enjoy it. _

_I've also decided that since this is, after all, based on a musical, I should probably have Jareth sing. The thing is, song fics tend to drive me crazy, and I never actually read the songs, so I'll just put in a couple lines from whatever songs I choose. The first one is going to be _Every Breath You Take_, by the Police, which is hauntingly beautiful but incredibly creepy. Kind of like Jareth. _

_Thanks for reading! _

_

* * *

  
_

'_You may have my heart, my soul,_

_That chasm that cannot be full_

'_Til it consumes you it is yours_

_Here in my land among beneath the moors.'_

**Chapter 8**

Sarah drifted in and out of a deep, restful sleep. She was so wonderfully comfortable that it took her a few minutes to realize that she wasn't at home. For a little while she wondered vaguely where she was, but she didn't dwell on it, and allowed herself to remain in the pleasant half-dream state. All in a rush, though, she suddenly remembered that she was Underground. For a moment her lips began to form a smile, a feeling of euphoria settling over her, excitement and ecstasy taking hold. It was only when she began to remember the details of her stay there, and the fact that she was completely under the control of the Goblin King, that cold and dread stole through her.

For a few more minutes Sarah squeezed her eyes closed, concentrating on her predicament. She felt better rested than she had since that first evening Underground, when she had awakened to the sound of the Goblin King's voice. Slowly, she stretched, straining each joint in her body. Why was she so comfortable? Her bed here was hard and lumpy…and then, with a horrible, plunging sensation, she finally remembered where she was: in the private chambers of the Goblin King himself, where she had cried herself to sleep after sobbing in his arms and spilling all of her fears and troubles. Cringing, berating herself, furious, Sarah stiffened in something akin to fear. What would he do with the information she had given him?

How could she have been so stupid? She knew that she had been tired, and lonely, and discouraged, but surely she wasn't desperate enough to turn to _him_ for help? Surely her judgment hadn't been so affected that she'd allow _him_ to comfort her and tell _him_ of her woes? And how dare he take advantage of her like that? Refusing to dwell on the fact that the king had been nothing but thoughtful and generous, Sarah sat up abruptly, looking around suspiciously. She found that she had been laid across the couch and that a blanket had been spread over her, and flung it angrily away. _What had she been thinking?_

Sarah's head spun as she rose swiftly to her feet, and she grasped the arm of the sofa for support, resolving to remain forever on her guard henceforth. While it seemed unlikely that the king had any particular desire to harm her—since he could easily have done so already if he did—she still knew that trusting him would be terribly foolhardy.

After a moment her head cleared, and she looked curiously around the room, which, in her state of distress, she had failed to observe the day before. It was large, luxurious and beautiful, with carefully carved wooden furniture covered with softest cushions of varying greens and blues. High above her there hung a crystal chandelier which was currently emitting no light, probably having been extinguished so as not to disturb her sleep, and the only illumination came from behind the drawn forest-green curtains. The walls were hung with tapestries of forest scenes, each piece edged with a border of Celtic knots. It was, without a doubt, the richest, loveliest room Sarah had ever seen, but in the dark, woody tones there was a certain wild side, dangerous and hardly discernible at first, but undoubtedly there and undoubtedly powerful; and underlying current of natural chaos and irrepressible masculinity. Then, as Sarah gazed in awe about the room, something truly shocking and frightening occurred to her: it had no doors.

Before she could do more than register this disturbing fact, though, one of the tapestries was pulled aside to reveal none other than the Goblin King himself.

'Ah,' he said, with a smile probably meant to put her at ease but which only made her all the warier, 'you are awake. Did you sleep well?'

'Yes, thank you,' she replied stiffly, taking a step forward and trying not to blink, not wanting to take her eyes off of him for a moment. He was dressed more casually than usual, in a mostly unbuttoned white poet's shirt, loose tan pants and a wide black belt. His pendant, which was currently gold-on-silver (Sarah had noticed that it changed regularly) hung against his bare chest and, as always, he wore black gloves. She was suddenly very aware of her own appearance, which she could catch a glimpse of in the gilded mirror on the wall beside him: her hair was bedraggled, her clothing was creased and wrinkled and her collar had popped on one side.

'Goblin King, I apologize for my earlier behaviour: I was tired and not thinking straight.'

'Nonsense, Sarah: you were horribly overworked. It was perfectly understandable. Do not worry, though, I have made arrangements for you to assume a new set of duties.' The relaxed smile hadn't slipped from his face as he fully entered the room, waving a hand to open the curtains. Sarah, blinking in the sudden light, forced herself to remain still. _I must not step towards him_, she though resolutely, and then blinked again, this time in surprise. _Where did that come from? No danger of that. I must not step _away_ from him_, she corrected herself. _I must not retreat. _

'Thank you. What, may I ask, will I be doing?'

'Oh, just some of the more refined work that is better done without magic. You, see, Sarah,' he explained, his polite and friendly tone continuing to shock her, 'there is something I need to tell you about Faeries: we aren't exactly the most logically-thinking of races. Oh, that is not to say that we are not intelligent, or wise, or knowledgeable, for many of us are far more so than most humans, but we tend to let ourselves be governed more by our whims. Instead of thinking before we act, most act without thinking, and simply laugh at the consequences, whether good or bad.'

'Yes, I can't pretend that I haven't noticed that,' Sarah replied, trying to discreetly fix her hair without appearing to preen. Unfortunately, his glinting eyes followed her hands and a slight smirk formed on his face as he responded.

'Indeed, it would be hard not to. Unfortunately, such behaviour does not work for a king, because if I didn't bother to think things through my kingdom would be overthrown within days. My point, though, is that there are few fae who are bothered enough with the future to perform many task necessary in the running of a kingdom; when one lives forever, it is easy to decide to worry about something later. Therefore you, as a human, could be most useful.'

Sarah nodded, thinking that she mostly understood what he was saying.

'So…what exactly will I be doing?'

'Some of the same work you did before—whatever didn't require magic, in fact. However, you will also accomplish such tasks as reading and summarizing reports from my spies and warlords, and others of that sort. If I a satisfied with your work, the importance of your work will increase. Does that sound,' he paused, a bizarrely mischievous smile forming on his face, 'fair?'

Sarah had never thought of the Goblin King as mischievous before, and she couldn't help smiling in memory of her former immaturity. However, she quickly suppressed it and answered formally, 'It sounds more than fair, Goblin King. Thank you.' She was surprised that he was actually offering to help her, and wondered if she had been such a terrible servant that he would do anything to change her tasks.

'Good, then. Every morning you will go immediately to the kitchens, as usual, and given your assignments. When they are complete, you will report to Aelfric, who will give you further instructions. Oh, and now that you will need a desk in your room you will assume new quarters, and you should visit the seamstress as soon as possible for a new set of clothes to wear after your servant's work is finished. Understood?'

In the face of such incomprehensible kindness from one whom she had considered to be her enemy, Sarah found her suspicion and defiance wavering. 'I…yes. Thank you,' she answered lamely, looking away from him at last. Even so, she caught his smile widen.

'One more thing, Sarah. I have tolerated it this last month, but you really must not call me Goblin King all the time. It is far more polite to call me Your Grace, or Your Majesty. And as long as we are not in public,' he continued softly, his hair blowing like feathers in the wind from the open windows, 'you may call me Jareth.'

At first Sarah had felt her anger returning as he demanded yet more acts of reverence, but at his last words her heart softened. In light of his recent kindnesses, why shouldn't she respect him? In all the time she had been here, he had done nothing to earn her distrust or scorn. And if he would allow her to call him by his first name, then he wasn't placing himself too far above her.

'All…all right,' she said, still stiff, but slightly less so. 'Thank you…Jareth.'

For the next few weeks Sarah settled into her new schedule, and while, for some unknown reason, no one befriended her despite all of her attempts at kindness, she began to enjoy some aspects of the Underground in spite of herself.

_How could I have given up on magic?_ She thought to herself, for now that her chores weren't so harsh and endless she actually had time to appreciate the spectacular creatures living in the castle. Whenever there was time Sarah went to the gardens, always hoping that Hoggle would miraculously appear, and watched the little flower fairies (from a distance, of course) flit among the blossoms, which would move their leaves and petals of their own accord, while goblins and talking animals roved about the ever-changing paths. Once, she saw a beautiful centaur warrior trotting amid the bushes, but before she could start a conversation he had disappeared; not that he would have wanted to talk to her anyway, she reasoned.

In fact, the only person who ever spoke to her of anything other than her work was Jareth. She saw him more often now, because Bronwyn had informed her unkindly that delivering his meals didn't require magic and so was still her responsibility, and because she would occasionally have to bring important information directly to him. For whatever reason, he was, while not friendly, at least not hostile and would occasionally ask her how she was getting along in his kingdom. In spite of herself, she began to look forward to seeing him.

_It's only because he's the only person who talks to me_, she told herself sternly as she stared down at the list of figures on the paper before her, wondering if she would have to deliver it directly to him, or if he would have any questions. Over the weeks Sarah had proven herself to be reliable, intelligent and more efficient than any faerie, so her responsibilities continued to grow. Unfortunately, a lot of what she had to do was math, something Faeries found difficult to grasp. Always having hated math (which left no room for creativity or imagination) she had never paid it much attention in school and had tried to her utmost to forget about it since them, so a lot of the calculations she was forced to complete were quite trying, especially without a calculator, not to mention unpleasant. At least, though, the hard work left her little time to miss her world.

'There,' Sarah murmured to herself, finally finishing drawing a complex graph detailing the probability of something-magical-which-she-didn't-understand. It was late afternoon, and she had finally completed a stack of documents she had been working on for three days. Getting to her feet, she slid the whole pile into a leather case and exited her bare but relatively comfortable room to deliver it.

Aelfric was in his study, as usual, when Sarah knocked on the door. She remembered to curtsy—it was becoming almost second nature—and passed him the case.

'Finished already?' he asked, clearly surprised, and then opened it on the spot, without dismissing Sarah. 'Very good. His majesty will want this immediately,' he told her, handing her a folded document. 'You may go.'

With another curtsy, Sarah turned to go, her ears still ringing with the compliment. For whatever reason, he had forgotten to be cruel to her. Smiling slightly, she began to work her way through the ever-changing halls towards Jareth's study: it was the only place she could think of to look for him. When she finally got there and knocked, though, there was no response, so she was forced to make her way to his private apartment, with the same result. This time, though, just after she had decided to check the library she saw a crystal bubble floating towards her. When it stopped in front of her she watched it nervously, remembering the similar bubbles she had seen after biting into Jareth's peach all those years ago, but finally forced herself to reach tentatively out to touch it. Immediately, Jareth's face appeared within it, looking out at her. With a cry, she almost dropped it.

'Oh, it is you,' he said. 'Can I help you, Sarah?' His amused smirk made it clear that he had witnessed her surprise.

'Oh, um, well,' Sarah stuttered, but then pulled herself together and said, 'Aelfric told me to bring you this.' She turned the crystal to show it the document.

'Very well,' he sighed. 'I am in the gardens, in the cherry grove. It is far too beautiful a day to be trapped inside today. Come and find me.' With that, the bubble burst. Sarah took a deep breath, steadying herself. She could handle Jareth well enough when she was prepared, but he sprung out like that unexpected she always ended up tongue-tied and trembling, with her heart beating ridiculously fast.

* * *

In the gardens, Jareth leaned against a tree. He had been writing a letter to his most trusted warlord when the alarm he had set on his door had gone off, and he had found himself face to face with Sarah, with absolutely no warning. Of course, he had had a crystal propped up nearby that was trained on her, but he had only been glancing at it every few minutes and had missed her heading towards his rooms. Breathing deeply, he tried to regain his composure before she arrived. Of course, he was always happy to see her, but when she sprung out like that unexpected he always found himself attacked by such a harrowing army of emotions that he often seemed to make a fool of himself.

Now that he was prepared, though, he would be able to orchestrate the coming meeting. Smiling happily, he burst the crystal that watched her, turned back to his letter and pretended to work on it while waiting for his love to arrive.

'Jareth?' He had, of course, heard her approaching, but didn't look up until she said his name. When he did, she hesitated and then, a resigned look on her face, curtsied quickly.

'Sarah,' Jareth said, putting down the letter. 'Come, sit with me.' Tentatively, clearly nervous around him, she complied, handing him the document, which he read immediately. It was very important, detailing the magical concentration in the forest on his eastern border, which was fluctuating due to a surplus of water nymphs and which could be harmful to some other creatures, such as brownies.

'I will need a copy of the work which led you to this,' he told her, looking up and seeing her staring in wonder about the grove. Glancing about himself, Jareth appreciated again the incredible beauty of the place. The trees didn't adhere to the seasons, the way they did Aboveground, so each silver branch was heavy both with plump, dark red fruit and with shimmering, pale pink flowers. 'It is lovely, is it not?' he said softly, turning his eyes back to her delicate face.

'Yes…' For a moment she continued to look around, and then shook her head slightly and turned to him. 'Okay, I still have the work. Do you want it right away, or shall I bring it to you tonight?'

'Tonight is fine,' he smiled, although it was quite important, because he was unwilling to part with her just yet. For a moment he considered offering to accompany her to her room to get it, but decided against it; besides, there would be plenty of time later. 'Have you ever seen my cherry grove before, Precious?' He cringed when the word slipped out, for he hadn't meant to call her that, but Sarah only smiled.

'No. It is unbelievable. Do you mind if I…try a cherry?'

'Of course not,' he answered, flicking his fingers to send a twig holding two succulent cherries falling into her lap. She laughed in surprise, a delightful sound that Jareth hadn't heard in over twenty years and which sent his heart flying in his chest and stopped his breath in his throat, before sucking the first of the two into her mouth.

The sight of her full lips parting to accept the fruit, her pink tongue darting out to pull it from the twig, her eyes closing in pleasure as it burst in her mouth, had Jareth digging his fingernails into his palms. His eyes darkened as he watched her, his thoughts suddenly far from the sound of her laughter and closer to the sound of her heavy breathing, or her crying out in ecstasy as…

'I've never tasted anything so delicious,' Sarah told him, still smiling as she savoured the second cherry, and Jareth, unable, to speak, merely smiled and nodded, feeling ridiculous. She no longer had to wear the silly servants costume, and was instead dressed in a white blouse and a long brown skirt. Even in the simple clothing, though, her lithe body was clear, her thin waist, her flaring hips, the swell of her breast, her long, woman's legs…once again, Jareth tore his mind away from not-so-gentlemanly thoughts.

'I am surprised that you accepted a fruit from me,' he joked, his eyes roving greedily over her face, which suddenly flushed an endearing pink.

'Oh! I—I didn't—I wasn't thinking,' Sarah stuttered, glancing suspiciously down at the stems in her hand. 'They aren't enchanted, are they?'

'Of course not,' he told her, helping himself to one; it really was quite good. 'I have no little boy to keep you away from this time.' He watched her carefully as he spoke, and caught her rapidly changing expressions: confusion, disappointment, and finally curiosity. _Come on, Sarah, ask me_, he challenged her silently. _Ask me I only did it all to keep you from your brother, or if it was true._ To his disappointment, though, she said nothing, and Jareth decided to drop it.

'This grove is one of my favourite places,' he told her conversationally, 'but you should see other parts of my garden. The apple trees, the rose bushes…'

'I have seen a few places,' Sarah replied, consenting to make conversation with him. Jareth had expected this, because he knew that she was starved for it. 'I particularly like the places where everything grows wild, dozens of different plants exploding around each other, each leaf a different shape, each flower a different colour.'

'Yes, such uncontrollably natural gardens have a certain magic about them,' Jareth replied. 'There is a place, where dark thorns create a natural fence, which seems unpleasant and forbidding at first, but where, at night, hundreds of species of noctiflora blossom at once. Their vines climb up the thorns, and the stars shine in the lake it meets. There is a terrible beauty about it, harsh and wild, but still exquisite and irresistible. I go there alone, sometimes, when I need to get away from my court...the beauty and power of it never fail to enchant me.' As he spoke he watched her, and could tell that his words were painting a picture in her mind. 'Perhaps I can show you, some time,' he added softly.

'I would like that,' she answered, smiling, clearly completely unaware that he was offering to take her to his private retreat, where he allowed no other to set foot. For a long time they sat in silence, Jareth watching Sarah and Sarah gazing around the garden, lost in her thoughts. Then a bird cried loudly in the boughs above them, though, and she started.

'I should go, you're supposed to be working. I'm wasting your time,' she said quickly, moving to get to her feet.

'Not at all,' Jareth replied, gesturing for her to remain seated. Her words were true, in a way, but he was unwilling to be parted from her just yet. 'I actually find talking to you very interesting. Because you are human,' he clarified when she raised an eyebrow at his statement. 'You see things very differently from me.'

'Oh. Yeah, I suppose so,' Sarah agreed slightly awkwardly.

'And what about you?' Jareth asked smoothly. 'Do you not find conversing with the king of a different species—nay, a different world—at all interesting?'

Sarah paused for a moment, and then said quietly, 'I find it very interesting.' Jareth felt his heart soaring at her words, but he kept his face impassive. How he wanted to just remain here for the rest of the golden afternoon, talking with her of everything and nothing in the cherry grove. But the war, he really had to write to his warlord...

'You are right, though,' he sighed angrily. Why did he have to be the king? If he was any other faerie he could just do whatever he wanted, without the fate of a kingdom resting on his shoulders. Of course, Finvarra was High King of the Unseelie Court, and he still only ever did exactly what he wanted...but that was immaterial. 'This is very important.' He reached for his letter again, glaring down at it. Did he really have to finish it today? Yes. Yes, he did. But...

'What are you doing that's so important?' Sarah asked, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. She seemed genuinely curious, so he decided to tell her.

'I do not know if you were aware, but I am at war, Sarah, with Aoibhinn's court. We tried solving our differences by diplomatic means, but they failed. I am writing to give instructions to one of my warlords—a magical message would be too dangerous, because it could be picked up by a spy. Actually, I am in a very bad position right now. You see,' he explained, pushing the papers away and conjuring a crystal, which drew Sarah's eyes immediately, 'My forces in that area are divided in three.' The image in the crystal immediately showed the land as he discribed it, which his three armies. It skipped over minor details like human cities and roads, though. 'And hers are grouped together. She will move forward and crush each of my armies in turn. There isn't enough time forthe second two to join the first, and I cannot have the army closest to her come back to meet the others, because she is already on my land.' As he spoke Jareth watched Sarah carefully, wondering what she would make of this.

'I'm afraid that I don't know anything about war, and I know even less about Faerie war,' she admitted, biting her lip so horribly endearing a way that Jareth was forced to turn away. 'But...well, can't you set a trap?'

'I told you Sarah,' he answered, slightly annoyed that she hadn't been paying attention, 'we tried diplomatic means, but neither of us succeeded. Now it just comes down to war. Maybe I can use magic to manipulate the circumstances...the wind, perhaps, or I can attempt to give my knights some sort of protection...'

'No, Jareth,' Sarah said, and even though she, too, sounded slightly annoyed, his heart melted when she said his name. 'I mean, can't you draw her between your three armies and surround her? Like I said, I don't know anything about Faerie warcraft, but don't you generally just hack it out, like the Spartans or something? If you engage and then retreat, she'll probably pursue you, right?'

'Yes...' Jareth replied, although he couldn't make head or tail of that second sentence. 'But of course I would never consider retreating.'

'Why not? Why don't you engage her army with your closest legion—or whatever it's called—and then retreat, drawing her back in between your other armies? You ambush and crush her.' Sarah described it tentatively, drawing a diagram in the earth. Jareth cocked his head, considering her and her plan. If it had been anyone else he would never have given it a second thought but, as always, saying no to her was impossible. He might as well indulge her, and think it through.

The plan was very distinctly human. In Faerie wars there was a lot of trickery and deception, but it was generally played out off the battle field. Once affairs had gotten that far, the monarchs did their best to assure an advantage for their troupes and then sent them off, and let the best kingdom win. Ambushes were actually quite common, but Jareth couldn't help feeling that pretending to go against Aoibhinn with one army and then crushing her with another was slightly unfair. He smiled.

'You know, Sarah, you are very much a human,' he told her affectionately. 'That is a plan that no Faerie would think of. I shall certainly consider it.' Sarah practically glowed at the compliment, and a deep feeling of satisfaction stole over Jareth. She may be in denial, but there was no doubt that she still put a great deal of stock in what he thought of her, still to struggled to remain stiff and defiant in his company.

'I have an idea,' he told her, snapping his fingers behind his back to make the wind pick up slightly. 'I may not end up making use of this plan of yours...but in the future, a human idea could be very useful. Would ever consider assuming the title of...human advisor to the Goblin King?' Of course, it was a post that he had already planned to offer her, but she had just given him the perfect opening. Jareth smiled and surprise, pride and delight flamed in her eyes.

'Oh, well, I don't know,' she said, glancing away, so modestly that Jareth had to clench his fists to keep himself from taking her in his arms. 'I'll probably end up screwing it up. I mean, I didn't study politics in school or anything.'

'What did you study?' he asked curiously. She seemed to be in a divulging mood, and he wanted to make the most of it; it struck him that he really didn't know much about her anymore.

'Art,' she told him with the beginnings of a smile, which then froze on her face. 'Well, mostly. I switched my degree a few months before I came here.'

'Why?' Sarah mumbled something, looking away, but when he pressed her she sighed and, looking at him defiantly, answered, 'I talked about it with Adrian, and we agreed that an Art degree isn't good for much. So I switched.'

Adrian. Always, everything had to come back to _Adrian_. AdrianAdrianAdrianAdrian. Jareth grit his teeth for a moment to control his temper. How dare that repulsive human tell _his_ Sarah what she could and couldn't do?

'I checked up on Adrian, by the way,' he told her in what he meant to be a conversational voice. 'I thought you might like to know how he's doing.'

Actually, Jareth had intended to just check up on Sarah's would-be husband, but things had gotten slightly out of hand. Seeing the man hadn't angered him—in fact, he had been thrilled to realize that Adrian was his exact opposite in every way. No, what had sent him into a terrible fury was the fact that he had been living with Sarah. _Living with her_. He had come home to her, they had spent every free moment together, they had decided on furniture and ornaments. She had cooked him meals, laughed at his jokes, gone to him for comfort. He had woken up to her smile, and gone to sleep with her in his arms.

The thought had been too much for Jareth, and he had stormed through the building in a fury, spreading fire behind him, determined to destroy every trace of Sarah's life with Adrian. He had broken several Faerie laws in doing so, and probably hurt a good many innocent people, but he hadn't cared. His rage had been entirely uncontrollable. In the end, it had been Finvarra who had come to stop him.

'_The human world is different from ours_,' the dark-haired king had explained as Jareth raged before him, itching to return to finish his work. '_It is not all that abnormal for unmarried couples to live together. In fact, it is common_.'

'_Is that supposed to make it more bearable?_' Jareth had snapped, a crystal crushing in his hand before he could dash it against the ground. '_I do no care about human customs. The fact is that he took what should always have been mine, and he will pay for it with his life_.'

Finvarra, seated on the throne that an elm had woven for him with its branches, had laughed at him. '_You know, Jareth, that despite the rumours it does not actually make very much difference if she is a virgin?_'

'_That is not what I am angry about,_' he had replied furiously. It was, of course, but that was only part of it, although admittedly the part he wanted least to think about. '_Tell me, Finvarra, you know of these things—what is the most painful way I can kill him?_'

'_Oh, there is an infinite number of ways, each more wonderful than the last_,' Finvarra had answered, his grey eyes glinting as a smile touched his lips. '_But you really should not kill the boy, Jareth._'

Jareth hadn't believed what he had heard at first—mercy from Finvarra?—but then the reasoning in it seeped through and his anger slowly faded. '_I suppose that it is not his fault,' _he had sighed._ 'He did not know. He does not deserve to be hurt for his ignorance._'

'_What?_' Finvarra had replied. '_No, no, Jareth, you misunderstand me_.' He had actually laughed, then, the elm leaves twisting above him. '_Let him live for now, my friend, because if you kill him then you can never use him against her._'

'Jareth?'

'Yes, Sarah?' he replied, pulled abruptly from the memory.

'You were telling me about Adrian?'

'Yes, that is right.' He paused for a moment. He had had a plan, hadn't he? What exactly had he intended to tell her about her fiancé?

'Well he appeared...healty,' Jareth offered lamely. 'Yes, he seemed well enough, for a human.' Except for the fact that his arpartment and all of his wordly possessions had burned to a crisp.

'Is he coming to get me? Does he know what happened?' Sarah demanded, but she didn't look at him.

'No, he is not coming; he probably just thought you decided not to marry him.'

'So he doesn't think I'm dead?' Jareth remembered what he had told her about bog wood, and shook his head.

'No, he does not seem to.' His eyes were locked on Sarah's face as he tried desperately to read her—something he had failed at in the past. This time, though, she looked torn, confused, her beautiful eyes at war. He wanted to ask her what she had seen in Adrian, but now didn't seem like a good time.

'Well?' he said instead. 'Will you take up the post I offered you?'

'Yes,' she answered after another moment of hesitation. 'I would be honoured.'

'Thank you.' For a long time they sat in silence, watching the cherry blossoms fall in the breeze that Jareth had created. When she turned to him and smiled, he didn't think that he had ever been happier. Seconds earlier she had lost her only hope of getting back to her world and leaned that her intended thought that she had abandoned him on their wedding day, and now she smiled at him. Lazily lifting a hand, Jareth caught a blushing pink blossom as it drifted towards the ground.

'Sarah?' he told her, leaning forward to slide it into her hair, his fingers singing as they brushed her cheek. 'I think you should have studied art.' Her answering smile was like a bell.

'I should go, Jareth,' she said softly, reaching up to stroke the silky petals. 'Your grove is...beautiful. Perfect. Indescribeable.'

_As are you, my love_, Jareth wanted to say as she got to her feet, but instead he only smiled. When she had left, he leaned back against the tree, content and relaxed. She was already coming to understand, he could tell. She may not have realized that she loved him yet...but she would, before long. Perfectly happy, he conjured a crystal to follow her, a soft song flowing from his lips.

'_Every breath you take,  
Every move you make,  
Every bond you break.  
Every step you take,  
I'll be watching you…_

__

Every single day,  
Every word you say,  
Every game you play,  
Every night you stay,  
I'll be watching you…

_Oh, can't you see  
You belong to me...'_


	9. Chapter 9

'_I am fashioned out of dreams_

_For nothing here is as it seems_

_When I said you belong to me_

_Each word was spoken truthfully.'_

**Chapter 9**

As the weeks passed Jareth watched Sarah settle more and more into her life Underground. He had appointed her as one of his advisors in order to make her feel important, and to flatter her, but he had known all along that there wouldn't actually be much work for her to do. Instead, she spent her time wandering the gardens and reading in the library, and Jareth watched her happily; she really seemed to be enjoying herself, and seeing her face light up with joy each time she came across a new magical creature was an incredible pleasure. Jareth had also used her new post as an excuse to relieve her of all of the servant's work she'd been doing—except bringing him his meals, which he insisted that she continue to do because it meant that she was the first person he saw every morning. To his delight, she didn't seem to mind the chore, and they often spent a few minutes talking before she left again.

In short, thought Jareth as he sat in his bedroom early one morning, everything was going according to plan. She was adapting, and clearly her love of magic and fantasy was returning with more force each day. Humans really were very good at adapting. On the surface, she was perfectly happy, but Jareth, who watched her every step she took, knew that at night she still wept, and every time she did he ached to comfort her.

He peered deeper into the crystal, staring into her face. Her eyes, as always, were so much deeper than most humans', and profound in a way that Faeries' could never be. Deep within them, though, a very sad love burned. Was it for him, Jareth wondered, or for Adrian? With a heavy sigh, he evaporated the crystal a moment before she knocked on his door.

'Come in, Sarah,' he said, waving his hand to open the door, and she entered with a curtsy.

'Good morning, Jareth,' she told him as she set the tray down before him. 'How are you?'

For whatever reason, he decided to answer honesty. 'I am worried about you,' he told her softly, and smiled sadly when he saw the surprise in her eyes.

'Why? I'm fine, really. It was hard, at first, getting used to it...but it's gotten a lot easier, and...I think in seven years it might be hard to leave this world behind. There are so many wonderful things in it.' Jareth's heart swelled with happiness, but he knew she wasn't being perfectly honest with him.

'So you do not mind being here?'

'Well, I mind some things,' she replied with a wry smile, 'but on the whole, no.'

'Then why do you still cry at night?' At soon as he said it, her face and eyes closed off, and Jareth wondered if it had been a mistake.

'What are you talking about, Jareth? I don't cry at night.' He sighed. Now that he had started this, he would have to finish it.

'Sarah, I see you early every morning. It isn't that hard to tell, when I see your tired, reddened eyes. I really hoped that you were settling into your life here, Sarah, that you were growing happier...'

'I am,' Sarah replied forcefully, her hard, cruel eyes boring into him.

'Then why do you cry?'

'I don't!' Jareth turned his face and looked directly into Sarah's eyes in silence, staring her down until she finally looked away and said with a sigh, 'Fine. I cry because I miss Adrian.'

Her words drilled into Jareth, tearing at him. _Adrian_. Again, always Adrian. How he loathed this man whom he had never met... But before despair could grip him, Jareth noticed Sarah's eyes, turned away, and the expression on her face.

'You are lying,' he said, without stopping to think about it, relief seeping through him. 'I can tell.' For another long minute he stared her down, until her resolve and denial cracked beneath him gaze, and she looked away once again. 'Trust me, Sarah,' Jareth told her softly then. 'I want to help you, if I can. Have I not proven that by now? I am your only friend in this place.' He saw her weaken when he called himself her friend, and remembered the same thing happening to that repulsive little slug—Hoddle, or whatever his name was—all those years ago, when Sarah had named herself as his first friend. The memory irked him, so he pushed it away and focused again on the young woman before him. 'Tell me, Sarah, the truth.'

After a long moment, Sarah turned back to him and sighed tearfully. 'You're right, Jareth. I don't cry because I miss Adrian. I cry because I _don't_ miss him.' At her words, Jareth stilled, hardly daring to hope. Had he misunderstood, or had she finally come to see...?

'I do not understand,' he breathed, determined to know the truth before he let himself believe.

'I don't miss him Jareth!' Sarah cried, suddenly furious. 'What kind of person am I? A few weeks ago I loved him so much that I wanted to marry him, and now I'm glad that I'll never have to see him again. I _resent_ him for the things he told me, the things he made me believe, even though I loved him just a month ago! What's wrong with me? Am I incapable of love?'

Jareth watched mutely as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. He had heard what he'd been waiting for for weeks, and a part of him wanted to jump up, to sing and dance for joy, but the other part found it very hard to be thrilled while the news that brought him such happiness brought her such pain. Would she push away, he wondered, if he pulled her into his arms? Probably.

'There is nothing wrong with you, Sarah,' he told her softly. 'I think that I understand. You are far from incapable of love—if you were, things might of worked out quite differently when you ran my labyrinth,' he told her, a wry edge to his voice. If she hadn't loved her little brother so very much... 'No, Sarah—you just never loved Adrian,' he finished, and fury sparked in Sarah's wet eyes.

'You don't know what you're talking about!' she shouted, her anger turning towards him now. It was slightly frightening, and at the same time very alluring. 'Of course I loved him, I—'

'Sarah! Please, let me finish. What I mean is that after your last adventure here you tried very hard to make yourself into a different person. You convinced yourself to give up on magic, you made yourself be sensible, you gave up your passion and with it, your strength. You always were an actress, Sarah, and for seven years you played a part, played it so thoroughly that you convinced yourself that that was who you really were. And that character, Sarah, that character fell in love with Adrian, because he could help you maintain the illusion. He was perfect for the person you invented and tried to become. It was just a part, though, Sarah, and the real you, which returned when you found yourself here, thrust back into the midst of all that you had tried to forget, does not love Adrian, never loved Adrian, cannot love Adrian. Does that make sense?'

Jareth waited with bated breath. If Sarah grew angry with him for even suggesting it, then perhaps there was no hope. But if she thought it through and realized the truth...

She turned to him, her long eyelashes thick with tears. 'Maybe you're right,' she whispered. 'When I think about him I can remember what I loved about him, but I don't understand why I did. Maybe it's a good thing that this happened, that I came here. Otherwise I'd be trapped in a marriage that I didn't really want.' Sarah sighed and looked away and Jareth, overcome with tenderness, covered her hand on the table with his, but could think of nothing to say.

'I'm sorry,' Sarah told him after a moment, pulling her hand from his to wipe the moisture from her face. 'I shouldn't put this on you, it's really none of your concern. It's just hard, having no one to talk to. I'll go now.'

'Sarah,' he began, although he didn't know what he intended to say; anything, to get her to stay a few minutes longer. Before he could get another word out, though, the door in the next room, which led to the rest of the castle, crashed open.

Jareth was on his feet in an instant, shoving Sarah behind him as he turned to face the door. No one was allowed to enter without his permission. Why had his magical protection failed him? There no time to figure it out, though, because six shadows swarmed into the room. He couldn't tell what they were, but he knew at once that he didn't want them anywhere near his subjects, especially Sarah.

'Run!' he shouted, grabbing her and dragging her across the room, desperate for his sword, which he had not put on, but determined to remain between her and the creatures. They pushed forward, though—that was the only way to describe it, they forced themselves through the air. Just before the first one reached him he spun to face it, shoving Sarah away and hoping against hope that she'd manage to escape. Conjuring a crystal, he tried to entrap them within it but it was in vain, for the shadows just continued forward.

Scrambling for something to do, any form of protection, he threw a magic barrier up between them, in his mind and in the air, but the shadows passed straight through it and enveloped him.

Entrapped in the darkness, hardly able to see out, Jareth found to his horror that he could not move. Try though he might, he seemed to have completely lost control of his muscles. Sarah, out of sight behind him, screamed his name, and his one relief was that all six of the shadows had surrounded him, and there were none left to go after her. They didn't seem to be causing any damage, so he would eventually manage fight them off and there would be no harm done.

A moment later, though, eight armed Faerie knights entered the room, and horror gripped him like a frozen vice.

'Jareth!' Sarah cried again. He wished that he could see her, to make sure she was all right. Why wasn't she running? A moment later, though, to his dismay, his wish was fulfilled because she moved into his line of vision, directly in front of him, in fact. Holding his sword in two hands.

Jareth strained against whatever magic was binding him, trying desperately to tell her to flee, but to no avail.

'Who is the girl?' a smooth voice asked.

'It does not matter.' This voice Jareth recognised: it was Elden, Queen Aoibhinn's First Knight. So she had sent assassins after him. 'If she gets in the way,' Elden continued, 'kill her. If not, we can take her back with us as a prize.'

Jareth's fury exploded. The shadows cracked and dissipated as he tore himself free of their influence, his eyes blazing. Before any of the assassins could move he had grabbed the sword from Sarah's hands, thrust her behind him and attacked the knights with a clash of metal on metal.

He was severely outnumbered, and greatly weakened from fighting the shadows, but in his anger he was ferocious. His magically-enhanced blade clashed again and again as he attacked the assassins, trying to remain between them and Sarah at all times. Frail beneath his untiring fury, his opponents began to fall. First one was down, impaled through the heart; then another, his head cleaved from his shoulders; a third, slashed through the stomach. Surrendering himself to his instincts, Jareth fought like the demon he was, slaughtering his enemies. With a slash across the throat he destroyed yet another assassin, and spun about to search for the next.

'Drop the sword, Jareth.' Elden's voice rang out to his left, and he turned, brandishing the weapon, only to stop in confusion. Elden was nowhere to be seen, and the three others were standing back, watching him but not attacking. Sarah, standing directly in front of him, appeared to be unharmed. He glanced around for the Elden in confusion, and then back at Sarah, and finally saw, to his horror, that Elden stood behind her, holding a knife to her throat.

Sarah was standing stalk still, a dagger hanging from her hand, and Jareth realized that instead of running away she had tried to help. His mind spun, trying to find a way to save her.

'Your sword, Jareth,' Elden commanded, digging his own blade into her throat, 'or I will kill her in front of you. Slowly.'

'Let us talk about this, Elden,' Jareth protested, struggling to keep his voice even. 'Can we not be civil? How many times have we ridden together, sat next to each other at King Finvarra's council, fought side by side against the Seelie Court? Can we not...'

'There is no point, Jareth. I have my orders. Your sword, now, or she dies.'

'What makes you think I care about her?' he asked, grasping at straws.

'Well, if you do not,' Elden smiled, drawing his blade across Sarah's throat.

'No!' Jareth shouted, lunging forward, but Elden pulled his hand away for a second to let him see the thin line of beaded blood across her still gasping throat: she was alive.

'Your sword!' he demanded, a satisfied smirk streaking his face, and Jareth saw that he had no choice. Slowly, his mind still racing, he lowered the blade, and finally let it clatter to the floor.

'Now let her go.'

'I think not,' Elden replied, tightening his grip. 'Drop the dagger,' he whispered to Sarah, and Jareth's fists clenched as his lips brushed the shell of her ear. When she didn't obey, he added, 'I can kill him quickly or I can kill him slowly. It is your choice.' The knife fell from her hand, her eyes darting around frantically.

'Why don't you take me to Aoibhinn as a hostage, to force Jareth to negotiate?' she suggested, blood leaking from the slit in her throat as she spoke, but Elden merely slammed the hilt of his knife into her gut, causing her to cry out and double over in pain.

'_Queen_ Aoibhinn,' he corrected. 'You ought to teach your pets some manners, Jareth,' he snarled. 'Now human, get his sword and bring it to me.' He pushed Sarah violently forward and she stumbled, but then caught her balance and stooped to pick up the sword. Elden and the other three knights all kept their weapons pointed at her as she straightened up, facing Jareth. She gave him the ghost of a smile, and then turned with a flash, spinning faster that Jareth thought was humanly possible to bring the blade to a stop a millimetre from Elden's neck.

'_King_ Jareth,' she said softly, and swung the sword again, sending blood spurting as Elden's head was cleft from his body.

Immediately, the three remaining assassins leapt towards her, just as more Faeries clattered into the room. Jareth didn't wait to see if they were his or Aoibhinn's, he just stepped forward, pulled Sarah tightly against his chest and disappeared.

Sarah felt herself relaxing in Jareth's arms as they spun through time and space. She decided that she was probably in shock because of all that happened, because otherwise she wouldn't be smiling into his bare chest even after they had landed. And shock wasn't her fault, right? She wondered vaguely if he had some sort of aversion to buttoning his shirts, or it he just liked showing off his physique.

'Are you alright, Sarah?' Jareth murmured into her hair.

'I'm fine,' she answered, and then winced as the movement pained her bleeding neck. Jareth clearly felt her cringe, because he pushed her away, pulled off one glove and pressed his bare fingers to her injury; in a moment, it had healed.

'Better?' he asked, smiling.

'Yes, thank you,' she replied.

'Good,' he answered, and then took her by the shoulder and slammed her against a tree, his eyes blazing. 'What in the name of Anu is wrong with you!?! I specifically told you to run. I commanded it! What were you thinking, to try to fight? You have no training, as a human your reflexes are slower and as a woman you are weaker. You could have been killed!' He shook her roughly by the shoulders, and then pulled her back into his embrace, his cool hand soothing where the bark had scraped her. 'You stupid, foolish, idiotic girl,' he muttered, almost laughing, and Sarah sighed, a smile touching her lips.

'I couldn't run away and let you fight them on your own. And we got away didn't we?' It suddenly hit her that she had killed someone. _Killed someone_. 'Oh, God,' she whispered, her whole body tightening. 'Oh my God,'

'What is it, Sarah?' Jareth asked, glancing worriedly around before pulling back to look her in the eye, but she couldn't meet his gaze. What had she done?

'I killed someone,' she whispered, feeling her face open up with horror and shame.

'Sarah, you did very well,' Jareth told her, raising a hand to touch her cheek. 'There is nothing to be ashamed of.' But his words were no comfort. Shaking, she pulled away, gazing blindly around the forest he had brought them to.

'Sarah—' he began, but before he could say another word the air around them combusted in an explosion of sound and light. Suddenly, there were Faeries everywhere, wearing dark armour and holding shining weapons. She heard Jareth cry out, and the clash of metal on metal. Someone pushed her to the ground, she taste blood as her lip split, she heard herself calling Jareth's name, someone grabbed her roughly and pulled her to her feet and then, once again, she felt herself slipping through the gap between time and space, tightly held by her Goblin King.

'Jareth,' she gasped as they landed far more roughly than usual. 'What happened?'

'Travelling the way I do leaves a trace—they must have tracked it and followed us. This time I used a crystal, so it will be harder for them and besides, some of my own knights were there to help fight them off.'

'Shouldn't we have stayed to help?'

'_I _should have stayed. But I had to make sure you were all right, Sarah,' he told her, and she smiled happily; she had forgotten how good it felt to have someone care about her.

'Okay, well we should return to the castle and find out how they got in in the first place, and make sure no one is hurt,' she said, turning to take in their surroundings. They were in another wood, but the trees here were thicker and older, and the place had an air of mystery about it. 'We—' she began again, but before she could finish a ragged gasp of breath from behind her caused her to spin about in alarm.

'Jareth!' she cried, her heart pounding, rushing towards him in the filtered sunlight.

Jareth stood slumped against a tree, his face white and haggard, blood pouring from the deep gash across his chest and shoulder.

* * *

_I got VERY tired of writing fluff and angst. I mean, it was fun for a while but I've never written a romance before, so I just HAD to write a fight scene, even a low key one, for the sake of my mental health. Hope you liked it. _

_Thanks to those who reviewed my last chapter, and thanks to everyone for reading! _


	10. Chapter 10

'_Wild as the storming sea,_

_I will draw you close to me_

_And though you thrash and try to hate_

_You cannot escape your fate'._

**Chapter 10**

'Jareth!' Sarah cried again, rushing to the goblin king. Taking his arms, she lowered him to the ground and tore away the remains of his bloody shirt. 'What happened?'

'We were attacked, Precious, remember?' he gasped, and pushed her hands away. Closing his eyes, he touched his own fingers to the gash and after a moment the flow of blood eased and the skin began to knit together. Sarah almost sobbed with relief, her hands shaking so hard she could hardly push the hair from her eyes.

'Thank God,' she breathed. 'Magic, I forgot.' She laughed, a little hysterically, and wiped the tears from her cheeks, leaving bloody tracks. 'You'll be alright.'

But then Jareth's fingers faltered, the skin splitting again as he collapsed back against the ground.

'Jareth? What's wrong?'

'I…cannot,' he rasped, his usually smooth voice gone harsh. 'My strength is all but spent.' Cold dread stole over Sarah. Quickly, her hands still trembling, she grabbed the remains of his shirt and pressed it to the wound. She tried to remember the first aid classes she had taken, but all she could recall was how to administer CPR, which obviously wasn't what he needed.

'Fighting the shadows…sapped much of my power,' he said softly, more to himself than to her. 'They were…very strong, and to fight them all at once…and then to _travel_, twice, with another…and now, outside my kingdom, my magic is diminished…'

'Jareth,' she sobbed, 'how do I save you?'

'Sarah?' he asked, looking up at her and smiling. 'I missed you. I told myself that I did not, but…'

'Jareth!' she shouted. 'Pay attention, you stupid goblin king. You are dying. There must be something I can do.' As she spoke, she took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. For a moment longer he smiled serenely, and then something flashed in his eyes.

'Sarah,' he said again, more faintly.

'Yes, Jareth, I'm here,' she told him, struggling to keep control of her panic. He couldn't die. He just couldn't, not now, when they were finally beginning to understand each other, to get past what had happened seven years ago. The one person in all of the Underground who was kind to her. He couldn't die, now that she cared.

'Would you help me, Sarah?' he asked her, his eyes uncertain.

'Of course!' she cried, frantic. How could he doubt it?

'Get a leaf…any leaf,' he told her, and she reached out and plucked the first one her hands touched. 'Now, drip on three drops of my blood. There is a stream nearby; go to it, throw in the leaf and say, three times, "King Jareth of the Goblin City asks for your aid…' his voice faded, his face growing ever greyer as the blood gushed out of him. It didn't seem possible that he would survive having lost so much, but Sarah didn't stay to question it.

'Hold on, Jareth,' she whispered, then leapt to her feet and tore off towards the sound of running water. Before she had taken more than a few steps, though he called her back.

'Sarah,' he gasped, forcing his eyes open, 'be careful. Please. I cannot…'

'Don't worry,' she whispered, although he couldn't possibly have heard it, and turned to race off.

It only took her a few minutes to reach the brook, but it felt like an eternity. Quickly, she dropped the leaf into the water and said, as clearly as she could manage, 'King Jareth of the Goblin City asks for your aid.' She repeated it twice more, twisting her hands together. 'Hurry,' she whispered when nothing happened. Was that all? Should she go back to him now? Before Sarah could make up her mind, though, something shifted in the water. She couldn't tell what it was, but the flow of it was definitely different, in some way. Slowly, the _something_ moved, and Sarah found herself wondering why Jareth had warned her to be careful.

'And thee, lady? Dost thou require my assistance?' The voice was slippery and gurgling at the same time, filled with all of the power of the deepest ocean and all of the frivolity of summer rain; it slithered from the stream before her and resonated from the air on all sides. Sarah stiffened, looking wildly around, wondering what horrid magic Jareth had set her up against. When she glanced back as the brook, though, there was only a boy swimming in the water. As she watched, he moved towards her, walking up the shore, the water slipping from his perfect, naked body.

Then something strange happened. Sarah could see the boy's smile, and she could feel magic being woven into the air around her as he tried to enchant her, but her concern for Jareth must have acted as a sort of protection, because she could think of nothing else. In some vague part of her mind she realized that the boy's eyes were black as coal and that his hair was made of weeds.

'Come with me,' she said resolutely, ignoring his question. 'I'll take you to him.' Without sparing the creature another glance she turned and began to run back to where Jareth was waiting, bleeding in the forest. She had done what he'd said, and if the boy didn't follow her then there was nothing she could do about it.

'Jareth,' she gasped as she threw herself at his side, but there was no response. 'Jareth!' she tried again, desperately, shaking him, but then a cold, slimy hand clasped her wrist and threw her aside: the creature from the river.

'Save him,' she commanded, shoulders heaving, but the boy didn't deign to respond. He merely looked into Jareth's eyes for a moment, and then ran his long, icy fingers along the sides of the wound. Water gushed from his hands, running over Jareth's chest and sending the blood running down in rivulets; when it had all drained away, through, the skin was left whole, with nothing but a silver scar to show for it.

'Goblin King…' the creature said, dripping water into Jareth's face. With the faintest of moans, he awakened. 'My debt is repaid,' the boy finished, before getting up and racing into the forest. Out of the corner of her eye she thought it look like he was galloping, but she couldn't be bothered to check: she had eyes only for her king.

'Jareth,' she said, tumbling towards him. She placed her hand above the place where his wound had been, finding it icy cold. 'Are you alright?' He smiled up at her, his eyes half closed.

'Better,' he replied, bringing his own hand up to cover hers. Sarah let out a shuddering breath, and helped him sit up, although he didn't seem to need it. 'Fortunately, that Kelpie has owed me a debt for decades.'

'Thank God for that,' she answered.

'Thank you, Sarah,' Jareth said, his mismatched eyes boring into hers.

'Thank _you_,' she replied. 'You saved my life before I saved yours. Twice.'

'Should you wish to repay me, kindly refrain from putting yourself in life-threatening situations again,' he told her with a smile, and then closed his eyes for a long moment. Sarah was just starting to get worried when he opened them again, clearly troubled. 'I am sorry, Sarah, but I do not have enough magic left to transport us back to my castle. Losing so much blood sapped my strength, and I was already weakened from fighting those shadows, or whatever they were.'

'All that matters is that you—well, both of us—are alive. Let's just hang out here for a while, and when your strength returns you can take us home.' Sarah knew that she was still in shock, because her brain felt strangely fuzzy…sort of like a peach… She laughed out loud.

'Sarah? Are you all right?'

'Yes,' she answered, still shaking with uncontrollable laughter, 'yes, I'm fine.' And at moment her screams of mirth dissolved into sobs. Jareth gathered her into his arms, holding her to his chest.

'This is ridiculous,' she sobbed. 'You're the one who just recovered from a horrible injury and who suffered severe blood loss. I should be the one comforting you.'

'Have you ever killed someone before?' he asked her softly, running his fingers through her filthy hair.

'No.' Although she tried to control herself, she only cried harder. Her hands were covered in blood, they were stained with it. Would it ever wash away? Who would have thought the knight could have so much blood in him.

'Has your life ever been in danger before?'

'Only when I ran your Labyrinth,' she told him, a little hilarity returning to her voice.

'Silly Sarah,' Jareth sighed. 'Your life was never in danger then. Did you really think I would have let anything hurt you?' He rested his cheek atop her head and held her tightly, and Sarah felt her tears subsiding. She knew that she would never be able to escape from what had happened, that Elden's ghost would haunt her until she died, but she managed to suppress it, at least for the moment.

'Alright,' she told Jareth, pulling reluctantly away from his comforting embrace. 'I'm okay. Sorry.'

'Do not apologize, Sarah. It is not easy to take a life, or to save one, and you have done both tonight. I have been doing so for four thousand years, so I am not as affected anymore. There is no shame in your reaction.'

'Thanks,' Sarah said in a watery voice. 'How long do you think we'll be here?'

'Not long,' Jareth assured her. 'I do not wish to appear boastful…but I am an exceptionally powerful Faerie. My wound drained much of my strength, by within a few hours I should be able to bring us back. For now, though, you should rest; you must be very tired.'

'No, you go to sleep,' Sarah protested. 'You were wounded. And you need to get your strength back up to bring us back. I'll keep watch.' Jareth sighed.

'Firstly,' he told her, 'it my responsibility to protect you, not the other way around. Secondly, it is my fault that we are in this situation to begin with. Thirdly, you are more exhausted than I, because I am, unfortunately, quite used to this sort of thing, whereas you are not. Fourthly, I know what to look out for in an enchanted forest, unlike you. And fifthly, should we be attacked you would not be able to protect us, anyway, so having you stand guard would be a waste of time.' He smiled as Sarah tried to think of ways to counter his arguments, and let out a low chuckle when she scowled in defeat.

'I probably won't be able to sleep, anyway,' she told him haughtily, but then he snapped his fingers to create a warm, crackling fire that hovered a few inches off the ground and didn't seem to need any fuel, and as the heat washed over her Sarah felt herself growing drowsy. 'Oh, fine,' she sighed, 'you win this time.' And she lay down on the mossy ground, her head pillowed on her hands. Jareth sat nearby, his sword across his knees, an inexplicable smile on his face.

Despite her exhaustion, though, Sarah found that she could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Elden's green one's, empty as they'd been in death, or heard assassins creeping towards them through the trees, or felt the Kelpie's frigid fingers around her throat, or, worst of all, saw Jareth lying on the ground, blood gushing from his wounds, as she remained powerless to help. Besides that, they day was very cold and the wind chilly, and so sleep evaded her.

'Sarah,' Jareth said softly after a while, 'you are not asleep.'

'I'm cold,' she complained. 'Why don't we both just wait up?'

'Move closer to the fire.'

'I'm as close as I can get without burning myself.' Jareth sighed, then got to his feet and came to her, kneeling down at her side.

'Would you like me to put you under a spell to make you sleep?'

'No! You shouldn't use magic unless you have to.'

'Well then,' he said softly and then, before Sarah could wonder what he'd do next, he lay down at her side and wrapped his arms around her. Despite her surprise, she instantly relaxed as his body heat spread over her. 'I will keep you warm,' he murmured, and Sarah could tell that he was smiling. She firmly told herself to push him away, but it was much more comfortable…

'Why are you so warm?' she asked, pulling her head back a few inches in embarrassment when she realized that her lips were moving against the bare skin of his chest. 'You lost a lot of blood, that kelpie thing soaked you with freezing water and you aren't even wearing a shirt. You should be frozen.' Jareth pulled her firmly back against him, his fingers gently massaging the back of her head.

'I must be stronger than you,' he said in a teasing voice, and then commanded, 'Now go to sleep.' Sarah didn't want to obey him, but she found herself slipping away. As she drifted off to sleep she thought she heard him singing softly…

...but she wasn't sure.

* * *

When Sarah awakened she felt perfectly rested, and perfectly at ease. She didn't wonder whose arms were around her, caring only that she was very comfortable. Nothing else seemed to matter. She smiled and snuggled closer into the warmth, and drifted back into sleep.

An unknowable amount of time later, she woke again, and this time she remembered exactly what had happened the day before, where she was and who she was with, and sighed heavily, pulling away and sitting up. Sure, she had been in shock the evening before; but that was no excuse for going to sleep in Jareth's arms. Seriously.

'Do you feel any better, Sarah?' He asked, sitting up and smiling at her.

'Slightly,' she answered, her voice hoarse, probably from crying so much the night before. She felt dirt on her face crack as she spoke, and when she reached up to touch it saw that her hands were covered in dried and caking blood. Wordlessly, she stared at herself, horror bubbling up within her.

'Here,' Jareth said, taking her hands in his and rubbing them gently. Sarah looked at him quizzically, but when he let her go all of the blood and dirt had been washed away.

'Thanks,' she said as he ran his fingers over her face and through her hair, and finally waved them in front of her clothes. She seemed to be thanking him very often lately. 'Has your power returned, then?'

'It was never gone, Sarah, it was just a little tired. But yes, we can go home now.' He waved his hand and his shredded, bloodied shirt was clean and whole again in an instant.

'That must be convenient,' Sarah commented, thinking of all the clothes she had torn over the years.

'Magic will not hold it together for very long, though,' he told her as he pulled it on and helped her to her feet. 'Now, I am not going to bring us directly into the castle, in case there is still danger. I will bring you to the gardens, and then go on ahead, and come back for you when I know it is safe.'

'What? No!' Sarah started to protest, but in another moment he had grabbed her and magicked them both away, and within an instant she found herself standing alone in the garden, very annoyed.

'Why should I have to wait while he goes into danger?' she muttered mutinously. 'It's not fair.' With a heavy sigh, she sat down on the grass, waiting. She considered going on to the castle on her own, but got the feeling that she wouldn't be able to find her way through the maze if he didn't want her to. A theory which posed interesting questions about the last time she'd been here…

The sun had set and dark had almost taken hold. Sarah lay back in the grass, looking up the sky, thinking through all that had happened. She knew that she would have to come to terms with what had happened with Elden, but that she would never be able to forget it, or go back to being the innocent person that she'd been before. And as for Jareth...she sighed. What bothered her wasn't so much that she'd gone to sleep in his arms: she had been cold, so it made sense for them to have shared heat. What bothered her was how comfortable she felt around him, how peaceful. She must not forget that he was dangerous. She remembered how close she'd come to giving in the first time he'd offered her his love, all those years ago: she'd almost given up her world and her brother's life for the promise of a man she'd only met thirteen hours earlier—less, since he's altered time—even though she knew that he couldn't actually love her. Where Jareth was concerned, Sarah's judgment was always sorely off its mark. She couldn't trust herself around him, and if her old infatuation was being reignited...

With an angry sigh, she shook her head. Of course it wasn't. She had just been scared and in shock the night before, and his comfort had been welcome.

Just as she reached this comforting conclusion, there was a shower of sparkles and Jareth himself appeared.

'Good evening, Sarah,' he said politely as she got to her feet—as if they hadn't just parted ways a few minutes ago. 'The castle is quite secure, and the assassins in the dungeons awaiting my judgement.'

'Great,' she answered, and smiled at him before remembering herself and assuming a more neutral expression. Jareth smirked. He glanced around for a moment: the night was truly stunning. He realized that Sarah had probably never been outside after dark before.

'Sarah,' he said, 'when I get back to the castle I will have to sort out everything that happened, and I'm really in no mood for work. Shall we walk back instead of using magic? The gardens are beautiful at night.'

'Alright,' she answered, shrugging, and side by side they walked off into the night.

The stars were shining brightly in the clear, deep blue sky, and noctiflora bloomed around them as they made their way through the bushes and trees. Dryads moved gently in the warm breeze, glowing softly, and pixies fluttered around their branches. It was a perfect, beautiful, magical night, and the hardship they had faced seemed distant and unimportant. Jareth could tell that it had affected Sarah badly, but she was now quite relaxed...as relaxed as she had been earlier, when she had slept in his arms.

For Jareth, the hours had been blissful, and while she had been self-conscious upon awakening, she seemed to have gotten over it by now, for she smiled as they walked along. He had offered her his arm and she had taken it, slightly awkwardly, unsure where to place her hand. Now, though, Jareth led her in silence through the stillness, both of them enjoying the beauty of the night. A thought struck him suddenly, and but he pushed it away. Surely now wasn't the right time. He had been planning it for a long time, and everything had to be perfect. Surely now, after the trauma she had been through, wasn't the right moment. She probably just wanted to be alone, to think.

'It's so beautiful,' Sarah sighed, interrupting his thoughts as she looked around. They stood on a hilltop, and the view it offered was truly spectacular. 'How can I regret being here at times like this?' she asked, turning her glowing eyes to him, and he smiled in pure joy.

'This is only the beginning, Sarah. There are so many wonders in this world. In seven hundred years you couldn't see them all, let alone seven.'

'Don't spoil the moment, Jareth,' she complained, but then laughed out loud and turned to race down the hill towards the lake below. Jareth followed, catching her hand in his, watching the wind pull her hair out behind her as she ran. She seemed so happy, so alive. Perhaps now was the right time, after all. It was a perfect night...but if anything went at all wrong, he vowed, he would wait.

They had reached the edge of the lake, glassy and smooth as a black mirror, and in their reflection Jareth could see that Sarah smiling blissfully, her eyes alive.

'It is lovely, is it not?' he breathed, drawing her slightly closer.

'Magnificent,' she replied, turning her idyllic face to him. 'Spectacular. Magical. It's like a dream, Jareth. It's everything I ever dreamed of.'

'I know,' he told her softly, and they walked on in silence until they reached the trailing, sweeping boughs of a weeping willow, whose branches drifted in the lake, where Jareth pulled back the curtain of leaves for her pass beneath. Inside the canopy of the willow it was darker, with just a few silver rays of moonlight trickling in between the branches. As they approached the trunk Jareth steeled himself, but everything was, indeed, perfect, so he took a shallow breath and flicked his fingers behind his back: as king, he had control over everything in his kingdom and at his command a root snaked up from the ground, forming a gap just big enough to snag Sarah's foot as she passed. Stumbling, she lost her balance and began to fall, but Jareth quickly reached out and caught her, drawing her close to prevent her from falling.

They were both laughing as he lowered her back to lean against the tree. Their faces were inches apart and his hair fell about hers, which was shining in the moonlight. For a long moment they looked at each other, his mismatched blue eyes boring into her bright green ones. Her lips were parted, her smile lingering although her laughter had faded. Everything was perfect, exactly as Jareth had planned it, exactly as he had dreamed it. Slowly, he lowered his face and pressed his lips to hers.

The feeling was indescribable. How long had he dreamed of this? For how many long, cold, lonely years had he imagined it? He seemed to be soaring through the air, but plummeting towards the ground at the same time, and all the while floating gently in a warm breeze. With one hand he held her waist, and he brought the other up to cup her cheek. How could he have lived so long without this?

And her mouth was moving beneath his, she was leaning into his kiss, exactly how he had dreamed she would but so much better, she was accepting him, she wouldn't ever push him away again. By Anu, how he loved her, he always had and he always would and now, at last, she understood, they could finally be together, all his past mistakes and her past cruelties would be forgotten. She was kissing him, her hand was at the base of him neck, drawing him closer, her lips were parting...

After what seemed like an eternity, but was at the same time far too short, Jareth pulled away. Sarah's eyes were closed and she was completely and perfectly relaxed in his arms, more at ease than she had ever been around him before.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, gazing up at him, a relaxed and happy smile spreading across her beautiful lips. He loved her. By the spirits, how he loved her, and now, finally, he would be able to tell her so.

'Sarah,' he began, leaning down and kissing her long, soft hair, but she spoke before he could continue.

'No,' she whispered, closing her eyes again, tilting her face away from his. Jareth stared down at her, uncomprehending. It wasn't possible.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean no. Jareth, we can't do this.'

'Why not?' He pressed his cheek to hers, unwilling to look into her beautiful, beloved, terrible, cruel eyes as she tore his heart out once again.

'I'm engaged, Jareth. I would be married now if it weren't for King Finvarra.'

'Oh,' he laughed, surprised and relieved. 'Is that it?' He leaned back again, ready to shout for relief. 'We talked about this. Sarah, you never loved him.'

'It doesn't matter. I can't just...' but before she could finish he kissed her again.

'You owe him nothing, Precious. We belong together, you know that. Sarah...' He pressed his lips to her face, her hair, her eyelids. 'Sarah...' he repeated again and again, trying to pour all of his love and tenderness into those two short syllables. She would understand, now, she must... She was relaxing into his arms, her eyes close in pleasure even as she tried to remember why she shouldn't give in. Pulling off his gloves, he took her face in his hands, his fingers tingling with the feeling of touching her with his bare skin.

'Sarah,' he said once again, trying to find the words to convince her, and her eyes fluttered open, dilated and unfocused, filled with passion and emotion.

'Jareth,' she replied, her voice breathy and low, and that was all she had to say, and as she said it he knew that she wouldn't fight him anymore.

Feelings of joy and tenderness washed over him and he pulled her closer, crushing her against his chest for a long moment before leaning down to kiss her again, his hands tangling in her hair. She parted her lips beneath his, a soft sound of pleasure escaping from the back of her throat as she surrendered herself to his kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

'_I am life and I am death_

_And I will take your very breath_

_For you cannot escape my love_

_Though it be cruel and harsh and rough.'_

**Chapter 11**

The morning after the attack, Sarah hesitated a long time outside of Jareth's chambers. As he had predicted, once they'd gotten back to the castle he had had to speak to dozens of people, trying to sort out what had happened. Sarah had returned to her own room, her mind racing: far too many things had happened in one day. She and Jareth hadn't had another opportunity to talk, for which she was glad, because she didn't know what to say to him. So, they had kissed. But what did it mean? Had he seen how upset she'd been, and tried to take her mind off of it? If so, he had succeeded, at least in part. But what if he remembered her erstwhile rejection, and just wanted to prove to both of them that she wanted him? _Did_ she want him? He was attractive, there was no denying that, but over the weeks she'd been here she'd been too on her guard around him to even consider it. Now, though…at the memory of the night before she reached a finger up to touch her lips, and shivered slightly. _Not good_. What about Adrian?

But at the thought of her former fiancé Sarah felt nothing. No regret, no anger, certainly no lingering affection...just nothing. It was as though he had never been, as though—as Jareth had suggested—it had been a different person, a different Sarah, who had fallen in love with him. Completely apathetic, she pushed that thought aside for more important matters.

How would Jareth treat her when she entered the room? Would he gloat, dangle her weakness in her face? Would he pretend it had never happened? Would he try to kiss her again? What exactly was he offering her this time around?

And more importantly, she had absolutely nothing to lose; how would she find the strength to resist? Did she even want to resist? _Yes_, she told herself firmly, but her heart screamed _No_, and she knew that she'd be devastated if it turned out to be nothing. What was so appealing about him, anyway? He was pushy, controlling and arrogant; he had anger management issues and he seemed to think that any moment he wasn't singing was a moment wasted; he was sarcastic and mocking; and his pants were _way_ too tight. Sarah sighed, finally reaching forward to knock on the door. _Just face it_, she thought to herself, _you are completely enamoured with the Goblin King_.

The door unlocked with a click, and Sarah marched in, her face politely pleasant, as she did every morning.

'Good morning, Jareth. How are you doing?' she asked, walking towards him.

'Very well, and yourself?' he asked. He smiled, and Sarah felt her insides melting. _For God's sake, get a grip_, she thought sternly. _You're twenty-two, not thirteen_.

'Not bad,' she answered, setting down the tray on the table. Jareth was seated a little ways away in an armchair; there was a book next to him, but it didn't look like he had been reading it. 'Your injury is all better, then?'

'Of course. And I figured out how those rats got in here, so there is no need to worry.' At his words, Sarah suddenly found herself remembering the first time she had tried to get into the Goblin City, when Hoggle had called Jareth a "rat".

'What are you smiling about?' Jareth asked suspiciously, and Sarah's grin widened.

'Oh, nothing,' she said, waving a hand flippantly.

'Nothing?' Jareth repeated. 'Nothing? Nothing?! Nothing, tra la la?' Sarah burst out laughing. The King joined her a moment later, his laughter like water running over rocks, and she marvelled that she had been so terrified when he'd sprung from his disguise in the tunnel so many years ago.

'Come here,' he said suddenly through his laughter, and Sarah approached easily. As soon as she was close enough he grabbed her wrist, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. His touch was playful, far less intense than it had been the night before, but still passionate, and she found herself returning it wholeheartedly. For a second, she was thrilled with the knowledge that Jareth was kissing her, but a moment later she had sunken too deep into his caress to think about anything at all. Then the kiss deepened, turned more fervent, still more passionate, as Jareth leaned over her, crushing her against the arm of the chair. As usual, his shirt was almost completely unbuttoned and Sarah could feel the chiselled muscles of his chest and stomach through her clothes. Somehow her hands had gotten entangled in his hair, and when he slid his tongue between her parted lips she actually moaned out loud.

Finally, Jareth pulled away, relaxing in the chair and wrapping his arms around Sarah's waist as she leaned against his chest. She sighed contentedly, her mind still off in some happy place as his bare fingers traced Celtic knots across her stomach. She didn't recognise the symbols, and stopped paying attention when he began to kiss her hair.

'Are you happy, Precious?' he asked between kisses, and she made some sort of affirmative sound in response, finding herself unwilling or unable to speak. Why did she feel so relaxed, so comfortable, so at peace? A few minutes ago she'd been a jittery mess. None of her boyfriends had every made her feel like this...although it was true that she'd never dated anyone besides Adrian for more than a few weeks; they had always managed to annoy her, although she'd never been able to explain why.

'I am glad,' he replied, tracing another pattern. Suddenly, Sarah froze. 'What is wrong?' Jareth asked worriedly, but she didn't respond. She had recognised this last symbol: it was an eternity knot. And _eternity_ knot.

What was she doing? Did she want to get involved with Jareth like this? Certainly, she was enamoured with him; there was no denying that. But did she want a relationship?

'Sarah?'

'Jareth, what are we doing?' she asked, pulling his hand from her stomach and twisting to face him.

'Kissing?' He leaned forward and gently kissed the corner of her mouth, and Sarah felt her eyes flutter closed for a moment. _Focus, Sarah_.

'Why are we kissing?'

'Do you not like it?' Jareth asked, clearly perplexed.

'It's not that. This is just—weird. Wrong. We can't do this. _I_ can't do this.'

'You seem perfectly capable; but then, I suppose I may be overestimating your abilities.'

'Can you stop kidding around?' Sarah said irritably. She tried to get up, but Jareth held her firmly in place on his lap. 'This can't happen. You're a Faerie. More than that, you're a Faerie King. And I'm a kidnapped human servant. What will I be? Your concubine?'

'Oh, is that what you're worried about?' he asked, his tone amused. 'Well first of all, I would never make you do anything that you do not want to do, and second of all, I will treat you with nothing but that highest respect, and insist that my court does likewise.'

'I'm a prisoner, Jareth! And there is no way I'm letting Stockholm Syndrome screw with my life.'

Jareth sighed, his expression finally serious, and lifted her chin to look her in the eye. 'Very well, Sarah. If you really want to talk this through, we can. Now, do you really regret coming back here?'

'No, but—'

'If I could send you home right now and ensure that you never came into contact with Faerie again, would you want me to?'

'No, but—'

'And you no longer feel tied to Adrian?'

'No, but—'

'And you like me?'

'Yes, I suppose, but—'

'So what is the problem?'

'The problem is that...' Jareth waited a long time while Sarah wracked her brain, trying to remember what the problem was. She knew that getting involved with Jareth was a mistake; she'd even known it when she was nothing but a fifteen-year-old with a schoolgirl crush. But why was it a mistake? With the exception of that first night, when he'd locked her in the dungeons, Jareth had been nothing but kind and considerate since she'd arrived. And he was, after all, exactly what she had always dreamed of. Why not?

'The problem,' Jareth finally answered for her, 'is that you are thinking like a human. Forget about all of the mathematical equations which add up to one answer or another, and think only this: what do you want to do?'

Sarah hesitated for a long moment. Finally she sighed, turning away from Jareth, and said, 'I don't know, Jareth. I just don't know.'

'That is all right,' he replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice, 'because I know exactly what you want. You trust me, do you not?'

And as Sarah turned to look back into his eyes, she felt warmth and peace spread within her. What other answer could she give?

'Yes, I trust you, Jareth,' she sighed. 'But I don't understand how this will work. What happens next?'

'Next, you let me court you.'

* * *

Yet another scream rent through the dank air, followed by the sobs and begging of a broken man. Jareth twirled a crystal between his fingers and conjured a clock: they had been at it for six hours. Not all with this same knight, of course, but nevertheless it was getting quite tedious.

'Let him down,' he commanded. 'Put him back in his cell. Continue to torture the others, and write down everything they tell you. I have other business to attend to. Keep them for...a week. By then they should have told you everything they know, and it will give me time to think of an appropriate way to execute them.'

With that, Jareth strode from the torture chamber. He was splattered with blood, and damp from the air of the dungeon room, and while tormenting the captured assassins had certainly been amusing for a while, it had grown old. Besides, his heart hadn't really been in it today.

'And now to decide what to do next,' he muttered to himself. He hadn't expected Aoibhinn to send assassins after him, but then, he hadn't expected her to go to war, either. Jareth supposed that he should call his council and advisors together to discuss what to do, but he didn't particularly want to.

Actually, though...Sarah would be there, wouldn't she? Jareth smiled and conjured a crystal, which he smashed to the floor to send a summons to his council.

And so the day progressed. It was frustrating that now that Sarah was finally open to him he couldn't spend the whole day with her, but he was also aware that he couldn't overwhelm her: if he came on too strong too fast, she might run away. Again. She sat at his council for a time, though, and she smiled every time she looked at him, but glanced shyly away every time he looked at her. It was actually quite endearing.

'King Finvarra cannot come to my aid against another Unseelie Kingdom—or Queendom, in this case. And the Seelie kings will hardly fight at my side,' Jareth sighed, tapping his fingers on the table in annoyance. He was tired of discussing alliances—he just wanted to destroy Aoibhinn as quickly as possible.

'Queen Cliodna is good friends with Aoibhinn; she would never assist us,' Aelfric commented, making a mark on a scroll before him.

'My liege,' said Trevaylen, an elvish advisor of Jareth's, 'have you considered sending assassins of your own?'

'Yes,' Jareth admitted, 'and actually, Trevaylen, I think I might do just that. Hear my plan.' He got to his feet, and waved his hand in irritation when everyone else stood for him. Once they sat down again he leaned over the enormous map on the table before him.

'If I move these forces to here,' he began, 'Aoibhinn will assume that I mean to engage her in the canyon, where I will have the advantage.'

'Even there, she will almost certainly defeat us,' protested another council member. 'Your army is divided, so she far outnumbers us.'

'Yes, yes. And she will know that. So she will move her army to destroy us, and meanwhile, I will move these forces here…and these, here.' As he spoke, he moved the blue pieces which marked the positions of his armies. He glanced up at Sarah, and she practically glowed when she saw what he was doing; Jareth was almost tempted to use her plan just to make her happy, but he decided to go with his own instead.

'Now, this first army will just have to hold her off until the others come close enough to pose a threat. To make sure they succeed, I will invoke the Rage of Addanc.' Everyone in the room, except for Sarah, gasped.

'My lord,' Aelfric said, 'surely the situation does not warrant this risk?'

'My army is smaller; I can easily get them to higher ground in time, and then flood the canyon.'

'But Your Grace, Addanc's Rage is very difficult and dangerous to invoke. You could send the flood to the wrong place...flood the city, perhaps...or just be consumed by the magic. Addanc would be glad to gain your magic.'

'I will take precautions,' Jareth told them flippantly. He wasn't absolutely certain that he could succeed, but he didn't see why he would fail. 'Anyhow, while the flood distracts Aoibhinn I will move these two legions here...and here. She will then have two options: she can attempt to take on my armies one at a time, or she can split her forces and meet me on equal grounds. Should she choose the former, my Lady Sarah has a plan to deal with her; but I think she will choose the latter, in which case I believe I can defeat her. In any case, she will no doubt be with her army by that point, to command them; and while she is there, confused, I will infiltrate her camp and kill her.'

There was a long moment of silence. Jareth sat back down, and waited while they talked about his plan. He didn't really pay much attention, absentmindedly conjuring crystals instead. He was the king, after all—he could choose to do whatever he liked, and he was tired of waiting around. Eventually, all that his councillors agreed was to consider it. Then some of them—including Sarah—were dismissed, and the day got drearier as they discussed other matters, mostly defences and how to handle yesterday's attack.

It seemed like an eternity before Jareth found himself alone in his council chamber. Finally, all of his advisors and councillors and lords and vassals and warlords and everyone else was gone, the paperwork was done, the plans were made, the defences were in place. Finally, the attack of the previous day was all taken care of.

Jareth could not remember the last time he had been so busy. He had been warring off and on with his neighbours for the entire duration of his rule, and it made sense that over the millennia he had spent all day long in meetings at least a few dozen times, but not recently; then again, he hadn't almost been assassinated in a very long time.

And yet, despite it all, he was in a very good mood.

With a contented sigh he stretched and got languidly to his feet. It was quite late in the day, and the sun had already set; it would be dark soon, and his host would ride out. It had been almost two months since he'd ridden with them, because ever since Sarah had arrived he had spent every spare moment watching her. Now, though, he didn't need to monitor her...or at least, not all the time. Smiling, he conjured a crystal with a flick of his fingers, and spoke to the face within.

'Prepare Cereus; tonight, I lead my host across the sky.'

As soon as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, the gentry court burst forth across the heavens. Their horses, brown, grey or black, tossed their majestic heads and kicked their silver hooves, racing the wind between the stars. Upon their backs, the Faeries rode, laughing or screaming, their voices echoing through the world below, and humans paused, chilled and enchanted, to look up to the sky, but the host had already passed, their clothes and armour shimmering, their hair streaming behind them, their eyes shining like the stars. And at their head rode their king, resplendent in silver chainmail, astride his snow-white horse, his face a beacon of joy and passion, as the aurora borealis swirled across the sky behind him.

All through the night they rode, stopping only to dance and revel in the glades of the north, and only with dawn, when the sun once again breached the horizon, did they vanish into the lingering shadows, returning to the brugh to await another night, and another ride. Jareth was exhausted, but also exhilarated.

'It has been too long,' he murmured to Cereus as he stroked his nose and mane, after the horse had been groomed and fed. 'Tonight, we ride again, and every night hereafter.'

'My liege.' Jareth looked up to see Kailen, a fine warrior and a trusted friend, standing watching him. 'You ride with us again?'

'I do not see how I could ever have stopped,' he replied, smiling and gesturing for them to leave the stables.

'Is what happened yesterday what caused this change of heart?'

'Not at all,' he replied. 'I just have not felt like it these past few weeks; now I feel like riding again.'

'And perhaps sitting with your court every once and a while?' asked Kailen as they walked together through the castle halls.

'Perhaps,' Jareth replied, smiling. What had he been thinking? Why had he shut himself away? Belatedly, he realized that he _had_ made himself a slave to Sarah. No more, though—now she was his. His smile grew.

'I wonder Jareth,' Kailen said, a mischievous smile on his face, 'how is that new servant girl doing? Cara, or whatever her name was?'

'Sarah,' Jareth answered. 'And she is doing quite well.' With that, he bid his friend good night.

The next morning Jareth sat waiting for Sarah, watching her through a crystal and thinking about the day ahead. He had done so much work yesterday that today he intended to nothing at all unless he himself wanted to. He wouldn't speak to any ambassadors or see any petitioners, and he would bog anyone who bothered him—except Sarah, of course. She was certain to bother him, but he would have to be a little patient with her.

'Good morning, Sarah,' he said when she entered the room. She was very pretty, as usual, he thought as he looked her over, dragging his eyes over her long, soft brown hair, her pale, delicate features, her bright green eyes, her rosebud pink lips...he stopped, frowning.

'Sarah, what are you wearing?' he asked, eyeing her blouse and beige skirt distastefully.

'Um,' Sarah replied, looking down. 'I don't know. The clothes I was given.'

'Well, they are ridiculous,' he snapped, flicking his fingers irritably to conjure a crystal.

'Oh. Sorry?' she said uncertainly, clearly confused.

'You should be wearing a dress,' he stated. 'Go see the seamstress. Give her this crystal, and have her make you some dresses. Thirteen dresses,' he added after a moment.

'What about my work?' she asked, smiling a little; she seemed to find him amusing. He frowned some more.

'Never mind it. As soon as you have something decent to wear come and find me—I'll be in my throne room.'

'All right, if you say so,' Sarah answered, still smiling a little bemusedly. 'See you later, Jareth,' she said, heading to the door.

'One more thing, Precious,' Jareth stopped her as she reached the door, and she turned back, her cheeks blushing faintest pink.

'Yes?'

'Just this.' He stood, and with two strides across the room he was before her. Gently, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. 'Now go.'

When she was gone, he sank smiling back into his seat, ate breakfast quickly and sauntered to his throne room, where he had only gone on business for weeks. His goblin friends looked up in surprise when he entered, but he waved a hand flippantly and told them to carry on, and so they did; they were used to their king's random mood swings. With a contented sigh, he settled himself in his throne, lounging across it with one leg thrown over the arm. How foolish he had been these last two months...

Jareth looked up as a quarrel broke out between two goblins. Not quite sure what it was about, he still slid to his feet, fully prepared to kick the perpetrator far away. Just as he approached, though, one of them shrieked shrilly, 'It's not fair!'

Stopping in his tracks, Jareth burst out laughing. _You remind me of Sarah_, he thought, and then he cocked his head and said, out loud, 'You remind me of the babe.'

'What babe?' the goblin asked, the disagreement completely forgotten.

'The babe with the power,'

'What power?' another goblin said, all of them clearly growing confused.

'The power of voodoo,' Jareth explained, his smile growing.

'_Who_ do?' asked another bewildered goblin.

'You do,'

'Do what?'

'Remind me of the babe!' he repeated, picking up the goblin and tossing him away, and the others finally realized that, for the first time in weeks, their king was going to sing them a song. They crowed with delight, laughing and dancing, as he spun about and began the song.

'_I saw my baby_...'

* * *

On the other side of the castle, Sarah was being fitted into the most beautiful dress she had every laid eyes on. She couldn't believe how quickly the seamstress had made it, but then, that was magic.

_Magic. Even magic couldn't bring back the dead, couldn't change the past, couldn't change what she'd done..._

'It's kinda tight,' Sarah gasped as the laces were pulled even tighter, but she was ignored. The dress was green and fell to the floor, the fabric swirling about her legs like gossamer. The sleeves where long, ending just at her wrist in the front and falling even lower in the back, and the skirt, while not tight, still clung to her hips. Her only complaint was the corset, which severely impaired her ability to breathe.

'You are ready,' the seamstress told her. 'The other dresses will be delivered to your room.'

'Thank you,' Sarah gasped, clutching her ribs as she left the room. As soon as she was out of site she reached back and loosened the corset, drawing a relieving breath of air before heading off to the throne room, where Jareth awaited her.

_What would it be like, to be unable to breathe? To try to draw breath, but find only blood filling your lungs? To be murdered? _

Sarah wondered what Jareth would say when he saw her...would he like the dress? Maybe she should go do her hair. But no, she didn't want to look like she was trying too hard! Perhaps a little natural-tone makeup? No, she didn't have any...

_Blood, everywhere. On her hands, on her face, she was drowning in it..._

For the thousandth time, Sarah wrenched her thoughts from the shadows. Her appearance didn't seem to matter much anymore. When she had been with Jareth, she had all but forgotten Elden—forgotten that she had killed someone—but as soon as she was alone the thoughts came flooding back. It had been very hard to sleep the night before, even though she was happier now than she had been in so long. Dejectedly, she pushed open the doors to the throne room.

At first, Sarah thought she'd gone to the wrong place—there were goblins everywhere, dancing and laughing and throwing each other around. A moment later, though, she saw Jareth, playing and dancing with his goblins, singing some silly song about fashion. Pausing in the doorway, a smile formed on her face as she watched. This was a side of Jareth that she hadn't seen much of—the fun side, the playful side. It was incredibly endearing. And the sound of his laughter was truly amazing, like water flowing over rocks, or like the wind in the trees...he should laugh more often, she decided. Remembering his smile, she found herself grinning through her blush and ducked her head.

Just then the song ended, and Sarah looked up again, composed once more, and clapped. Jareth glanced over and saw her, and his face lit up. For a long moment they just stood, looking at each other, and eventually the goblins realized that something was happening, and went silent. Slowly, Jareth approached her and Sarah, her insides bubbling with the thrill, took a step forward to meet him.

'Sarah,' he said softly, and she lifted her skirts and sank into a curtsy, for the first time not resenting it, but revelling in it.

'Your Grace,' she said, smiling hugely at the floor but managing to suppress it in time to look up at him through her lashes. _Good God, Sarah, you're actually flirting with the Goblin King. _

As soon as she had straightened up Jareth took her hand and lifted it to brush it with his lips. 'You look lovely.' His mismatched eyes smouldered and he offered her his arm, leading her across the room to where his throne stood.

'Sit with me,' he requested, conjuring a crystal and dropping it to the floor, where an enormous, cushion-adorned chair appeared right next to his.

'As you wish,' Sarah replied, lowering herself into the seat.

'Carry on,' Jareth said to his goblins, raising an eyebrow in annoyance as they continued to stand in a semi-circle and goggle at the pair of them, and immediately they began carousing once again, although they continued to steal glances at their king and his unexpected guest.

For the rest of the morning the two of them sat together and talked. At first Sarah was nervous, for it felt very much like a first date, but before long she got lost in the conversation and—if she was to be honest—in his eyes. There was something about the way he looked at her, as though she were the only person in the whole world, that made her feel special in a way that she had never felt before. He asked her about her life Aboveground and told her of his, in the Underground. Sarah found the Faerie customs fascinating, but was certain that she would forget most of what he'd told her by the next day.

_You're allowed to enjoy his company_, she told herself, _but you may under no circumstances fall in love with him. As soon as an opportunity arises tell him you just want to be friends._ Then Sarah remembered how she had agreed to let him "court" her. What did that mean, anyway? It was something out of a novel about the sixteenth century, and to the best of her knowledge it basically meant that he would romance her and try to make her fall for him. Which made it kind of weird to get permission ahead of time, in her opinion, but whatever. She hadn't been thinking straight when she'd agreed—his kisses had gotten to her head—and it had sounded so old-fashioned and romantic that the fairy princess within her had automatically approved.

They could be friends. She would be happy to be his friend. But she wouldn't be his lover...uncertainly, Sarah glanced over at him. Their conversation had been interrupted by the goblins, who had taken it into their heads to climb on top of each other to form a pyramid, and they were now watching the spectacle with amusement. Or at least, Jareth had been, while Sarah had tried to talk herself out of falling for him. Now, as she watched him, he looked over at her and smiled, and her heart dissolved into a drippy mess of goo.

Just then, the goblins collapsed in a heap on the floor, which gave her an excuse to look away and clap appreciatively as they picked themselves back up.

'So, Your Majesty,' began Sarah when they'd hurried off to think up new mischief, 'is this what you do all day? Sit here and play with your goblins?'

'Of course not,' Jareth answered. 'Sometimes I walk in the gardens, or play chess with my Faerie courtiers, or go riding.'

'No, seriously, Ja—sorry, Your Grace.' It was hard to remember to address him formally in public. 'You're at war. How come you're not working?'

'I worked _all day long_ yesterday,' he complained. 'I deserve a break, do you not agree?'

Sarah rolled her eyes, laughing. She wondered it if was just Jareth, or if all Faeries remained teenagers for their entire lives.

'Are you hungry?' Jareth asked then, and Sarah suddenly realized that she was.

'A little, I suppose.'

'Come, let us go to lunch.' He got to his feet, but then stopped. 'My lords and advisors will be in the dining hall,' he sighed. 'And they will want to talk about the war. Come, I will have some servants bring us our meal outside, and we can sit in the garden.'

Even though she'd been promoted to "human advisor to the Goblin King" Sarah had never gone to the dining hall, let alone had a private meal prepared for her; she had always gone to the kitchens, and then taken her meal to her room to eat alone.

'It is cold out,' Jareth continued. 'Go and get a shawl, and meet me in the cherry grove.' He smiled and disappeared before she could tell him that she didn't have a shawl.

'Is he always like this?' she asked the goblins, who, now that their fearsome king was gone, were free to cluster curiously around. 'I mean, he didn't ask me if I wanted to have a picnic with him, he just said to meet him. And he's at war. Is he always so...arrogant, presumptuous and irresponsible?' _And charming and endearing_, she added silently, but the goblins just crowed with laughter, so she shook her head in annoyance and headed off to see the seamstress again, to ask for a shawl.

It was cold out. Sarah wrapped her knew shawl gratefully around her shoulders, but the trees were so beautiful, all covered in frost, that they stayed outside all afternoon, anyway, talking about everything and nothing.

_Is this what he's really like_, Sarah wondered,_ or is he just playing a part in order to "court" me?_ But there was no answer to her question, and she had to admit that if it really was the real him...then he was very likeable. She did wonder when he had decided that he liked her, and had to keep reminding herself that she couldn't treat this situation the way she would if some guy from school had started chasing her: very different rules applied. Not that Jareth could ever be mistaken for a human college student, though, anyway.

By the time the cold finally drove them indoors, it was dinner time. Jareth brought Sarah to the dining hall and seated her at his side, which drew many stares, and although she didn't understand much of the conversation, it was certainly preferable to eating alone in her room.

Jareth watched Sarah surreptitiously throughout the whole meal. She would stare around in wide-eyed wonder, and then catch herself and assume an unimpressed expression, before something else would draw her gaze. Clearly, even after having been Underground for weeks on end things still surprised and amazed her. Most of all, she didn't seem to know what to make of him.

Which was exactly how he wanted it. The day had gone perfectly, and Sarah had seemed to enjoy herself. Every now and again she would remember who she was talking to and what he was doing, and would grow suddenly nervous and uncomfortable, but he would find a way to draw her back into the magic of the world, and her eyes would glow with wonder and pleasure and she'd forget her misgivings.

Jareth's courtiers, on the other hand, didn't seem to know what to make of _her_. He had been involved with women before, but never humans and he had never brought them to sit at his right-hand side—the place the queen would sit, were there a queen. They all watched carefully, wondering what he was doing, and some smiled knowingly. Jareth didn't mind, though; in fact, their interest might even help his cause, because Sarah had always liked to be in the spotlight.

She wasn't really his, yet. But he would weave his net carefully, and she would become so inextricably entangled that she would never break free. He had to be careful, though; seduction was an art, and a precise one at that.

'Sarah,' Jareth said as he walked her back to her room that night, 'you still do some servant's work, do you not?' He knew that she did, of course, because it was on his orders that she did; but she didn't know that.

'Some,' she answered, quickly wiping the dreamy smile from her face. She was in such denial, Jareth thought to himself as he went on.

'Well, that is ridiculous. You are not a servant.'

'Jareth, just because you've decided to—to _court_ me, as you put it, doesn't change who I am, or why I'm here.'

'Of course it does. I am the king, and my word is the law. Meet me in my throne room tomorrow morning.'

'What about the war?' she asked, clearly exasperated. 'You can't just play with your goblins every day, Jareth. You were almost assassinated.'

'Sarah, Sarah, Sarah,' Jareth sighed. She really was adorable, with her concern for such unimportant things. 'I am taking the war very seriously. I plan on invoking Addanc's Rage, remember? But I am not going to spend all my time worrying about it: you are more important to me than any war.'

The words were true, and he could see Sarah's face soften as he said it. Attention, affection, love: she craved it, and could not resist it. He would give her all that and more, and in return she would give herself to him.

'I will see you tomorrow, Precious,' he said softly as they reached her room and she opened the door. When she turned back to him, he gently lifted her face and kissed her tenderly, finally, as he had been longing to do all day long. 'Goodnight,' he murmured, nudging her into the room, and closed the door behind her.

'Soon,' whispered to himself as he strode away to lead his host in its wild ride through the heavens.

It snowed that night, as the dark riders wove amongst the stars, and in the morning the trees and bushes sparkled with silver in the sunlight. Even so, the flowers bloomed and the leaves clung to their branches.

Jareth took Sarah for a walk in the gardens, and she gasped at the beauty at every turn.

'Jareth?' she asked after a while, as they gazed over the glassy blue surface of a frozen lake.

'Yes, Dearest?'

'I don't understand. Why are you being so nice? Last time I was here you were awful. You were antagonizing and hostile and mocking. And don't tell me it's just because you want me to like you now, because you did then, too...right?'

'Sarah, when you were fifteen you wanted an adventure, and an adventure needs a villain. I gave you the opportunity to play heroine.' Jareth carefully didn't answer her last question: it was imperative that Sarah remain uncertain about his true feelings for her. If she knew of their depth, then she would take them for granted and the moment he did anything she didn't like she would throw him away. She must not know; he would not be her slave.

'Yeah,' Sarah sighed, 'I suppose that you did do exactly what I wanted, didn't you? And I kinda threw it in your face.'

'You were young,' Jareth shrugged. 'I should not have expected you to understand. I was treating you like a Faerie, not like the human girl you were.'

'Still,' Sarah replied, 'I screwed up pretty badly. And I kept thinking of you as the evil villainous Goblin King until...well, until a few weeks ago, I guess.'

'Screwed up?' Jareth repeated. 'I do not understand. Is that a human term?'

'Yeah, it means, you know...made a mistake. Caused everything to go badly.'

'Well, then maybe you did. But it has not really gone badly, has it? After all, here we are.' And he kissed her.

_Mine_.

Well, soon, anyway, he corrected himself. Not quite yet. She didn't love him, not really, although he thought that she may be falling _in love_ with him. And for now, that was enough. Smiling, they walked on through the swirling silver snow flakes.

For the next few weeks Jareth insisted that Sarah spend every day with him. He did have to work on occasion, but he would have her sit with him in his study or the library, and whenever he was free (which was most of the time, much to her bewilderment) he would walk with her or just sit and talk with her in his throne room, or the library, or the gardens. Once, he took her riding, even though she didn't know how to ride a horse. All afternoon they had laughed as she tried to stay on the white mare but refused to just walk her, insisting on trying to canter instead. Everywhere they went, though, they were surrounded by people. Very occasionally, when they were in the gardens, there would be a few minutes of seclusion, but the rest of the time courtiers, servants, guests or goblins were constantly nearby.

'It's kind of weird,' Sarah whispered to him once. 'We can't really talk with all these people around. Why don't we just sit in your apartment, or something?'

'That would be entirely inappropriate,' Jareth told her. 'You are a lady, Sarah.' And indeed, Jareth never kissed her if anyone was around. However, he seemed to want to touch her whenever possible: he would take her arm or her hand, or place his own on her waist or the small of her back. When they sat in his throne room he would rest his hand on her shoulder, or her arm, or else play with her hair as they talked. Jareth insisted on being with her every moment of every day, and insisted on touching her in some way all the time.

It was possessive and clingy and incessant...and Sarah couldn't deny that she loved it. Never before had she felt so needed, so wanted. After two months of solitude, the attention was like water after a long time in a desert, and she soaked it up. Even Aboveground, where she had had friends and a boyfriend, no one had ever treated her like this, as if she was the only person in the world who mattered. Adrian certainly hadn't—he had been kind and caring, of course, but they had been friends, partners, more than they had been lovers. And he had certainly never romanced her the way Jareth did.

Why had she feared him? He had never been anything but kind to her. Why had she suspected him? Why had she rejected him? Why hadn't she seen? Whatever she was feeling now, she had never felt it before. Just seeing Jareth made her smile, and when _he _smiled at _her_ she practically melted. Even if they'd been together all day long, she missed him the moment they parted company, and not just because, for whatever reason, when he was around she never thought about Elden. She leaned into Jareth's touch, and spent ages every morning arranging her dress, longing for makeup and fixing her hair, even though she knew that he would only mess it up. In the rare moments when she was alone, she shivered at the mere thought of him.

Is this what it is to be in love, she wondered. It wasn't something she had ever experienced before. The few people she'd dated had always irritated and disappointed her, and in fact what she had prized about her relationship with Adrian was that romance wasn't a part of it: they had developed a strong friendship which had turned into love, and their judgement hadn't been impaired by silly, amorous, mushy fancies. It had been solid, no-frills, more of a mutually beneficial agreement than anything else. With Jareth, though...Sarah smiled just thinking about him. What had she been doing, trying to forget him all these years? He was everything she had ever dreamed of.

One day in January, Sarah and Jareth were sitting together in a public parlour, and although there were plenty of other courtiers around, to Sarah it seemed that they were completely alone. Christmas had come and gone, and although she had missed garland-adorned trees and stacks of presents, she had enjoyed the Yuletide celebration very much, and found herself growing to love the winter of the Underground, which was so much more beautiful than that Above. Each snowflake was perfect, each bank of snow a shimmering pile of glitter, and while the air was fresh and cold, it didn't bite at her skin, and inside the castle it was warm and comfortable.

'Check mate,' Jareth said, pulling Sarah from her reverie. She stared at the chess board between them for a moment, then sighed, and knocked over her white king. Jareth never, ever let her win. Still, she was definitely getting better.

'Jareth, can you take me riding again sometime?' she asked, relaxing back into her armchair.

'Certainly, if you want to brave it,' he replied. 'Not today, though, for it is snowing again.'

'Is the weather always perfect here?' Sarah sighed, gazing out the window at the swirling white petals of snow as they drifted to the already silvery ground.

'This is Faerie, Precious,' he replied softly. 'Everything is perfect.' For a few moments they sat in silence, completely oblivious to the surrounding lords and ladies of the court, for all was quiet. Then Jareth stirred, and said, 'Sarah, will you sing for us?'

'What?' Sarah answered, startled. She had noticed that no matter where she was someone always seemed to be singing, usually some Faerie lady who would play a harp of lute as she sang nature, or of love. Jareth sang with goblins and, very occasionally, he would sing to her, and she looked forward to those moments very much. It had never occurred to her that _she_ might be asked to sing, though. 'Sorry, I don't sing.'

'What do you mean? Why ever not?'

'I'm not very good. I never have been.'

'Do not be ridiculous, Dear One. You are touched by Faeries: one of the affects of that is a beautiful voice. Come, repeat after me.' He sang a few low notes and Sarah, suddenly very aware of all the people around, self-consciously imitated him.

'There, see?' Jareth replied. 'Singing is easy. Just give your voice free reign, let it take you where it will. Put your trust in music, let it steal through you. Listen.' He paused, looking into her eyes until she forgot all else, and then softly sang:

'_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you ...  
Feel it, hear it, secretly possess you ...  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of the music of the night'._

And the music did steal through her, she did feel it caressing her body and soul.

'All right,' she whispered, and once again they seemed to be alone in the room. 'I'll try. But I don't know what to sing.'

'Anything,' he replied. 'If you cannot make up your own songs, sing something you already know.'

Sarah thought for a moment. She was already having second thoughts, but if she _did_ sing something then she wanted it to be perfect. It couldn't just be any old song: she wanted to sing it for Jareth. But the only ones that came to mind were horribly tacky love songs. Finally, she looked up at him, steeled herself, and began.

'_Like a dream I had  
In subconscious deep  
Here you come again  
Only in my sleep  
And I remember you  
Yes, I remember the things you do to me…'_

Strangely, Sarah found herself able to remember every lyric of the song, and with every line she found herself believing it more and more. The last few weeks she hadn't been falling in love with Jareth again: she was just remembering him, remembering how he'd stolen her heart when she was nothing but a girl. And here he was again, doing the same thing, as he had so often in her dreams. When he said her name, when he held her hand, when he whispered in her ear the things that only he could understand, when he touched softy in the way that only he could do...she remembered him more with each minute she spent with him, and fell more in love with him for each thing she remembered.

When the song ended and her voice faded to silence, Jareth's face was brimming with suppressed emotion. She looked at him, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he understood. He said nothing, instead just reaching and cupping her cheek in his hand, tenderly touching her face. No words were needed.

And so the days passed, slowly and wonderfully. For the first six weeks of her stay Underground Sarah had been too lonely to enjoy or even notice many aspects of the Goblin Kingdom and the surrounding countryside, but now, with Jareth as her companion, she discovered more and more, and felt herself growing to love Faerie more than she had ever loved the human world. She felt like she belonged here, among the dryads and the centaurs and the faeries, and it was hard to miss anything about her home, even her friends, when Jareth was with her.

'Do you know what day it is today?' he asked her one day as they walked through the snow-strewn gardens.

'I have no idea,' she answered, laughing. 'At first I kept track, but somewhere along the line I lost count.'

'It is January twenty-fourth. Which means that a week from now it will be Imbolc.'

'Imbolc? What's that?'

'One of the four great nights of celebration, which falls halfway between the solstice and the equinox. There are many ceremonies and traditions, and I will not go into all of them. One of them, however...is an Imbolc ball.'

'Cool,' said Sarah. 'You faeries are really into dancing, aren't you? There seems to be a party going on practically every night.' Jareth frowned; he was really going to have to do something about the way she talked. It was so informal, and unladylike. What she said was true, though: every night his subjects revelled until the sun rose. Until Sarah had returned he had joined them, when he wasn't riding out across the sky, although he hadn't danced since she had broken his Crystal Ballroom twenty years earlier.

'Yes,' he said, 'but on Imbolc it will be different. Sarah, you attended a faerie ball once before.'

'That's one way of putting it,' she answered wryly, pausing to admire a flock of flower fairies as they fluttered past.

'Yes,' Jareth agreed. 'I believe it would be safe to say that, on that occasion, I _screwed up_ rather magnificently.' Sarah laughed.

'Definitely. That was a screw-up of epic proportions.'

'Indeed. At any rate, Sarah,' Jareth said, turning to face her and taking both of her hands in his. Time to appeal to the romantic in her. 'I want to make right that wrong. Let me show you a real faerie ball, the way it should be: the most magical night of your life, perfect, beautiful, better than a dream, a scene from one of your human fairy tales.' He paused, and looked down into her eyes for a long moment. 'I have been invited to an Imbolc Ball. Will you attend it with me?'

Snowflakes were falling gently around them, sparkling like silver in the afternoon light, and they were surrounded by snow-bedecked trees and bushes. Icicles hung like magic wands from every branch and, save for the softly falling snow, all was silent. The pure white, unblemished world around them glittered like fairy dust. All was serene, and life, in that moment, was perfect.

'Yes,' Sarah whispered, clearly completely caught up in the romance of the moment, and Jareth smiled: she was so easy to manipulate. All it took was beautiful scenery and a few flowery words. Gently, he raised her hands to his lips and caressed her fingers.

'Thank you,' he said, and then tucked her arm into his and drew her forward, continuing their walk through the idyllic winter paradise of the gardens.

* * *

_And yes, in the next chapter we will have the requisite Faerie ball. No Labyrinth fic is complete without it._

_By the way, the song Jareth sings is part of_ Music of the Night_, from_ The Phantom of the Opera_. I hope you all knew that, because _PotO_ is AMAZING. One line in particular, from another song, stands out right now:_

'And in this Labyrinth, where night is blind/The Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind_.' Or, in this case,_ 'King Jareth of the Goblin City's there_...' :D_

_The other song is _Remember_, by Emilie Autumn, and she's a great singer, too._

_Thanks for reading!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you so much for the reviews! _

* * *

'_You will kneel before my throne_

_Your soul and life my very own_

_You will obey each word I say_

_And from my grasp you will not stray.'_

**Chapter 12**

The day of the ball dawned bright and clear. Over the week leading up to it Sarah had had to sit through countless fittings for her dress, but it had finally been completed and, she had to admit, it was perfect.

It was midday when they travelled to Knockma, Finvarra's Rath, where the ball was to be held. Neither of them was dressed up, as they would get ready once they were there, and there were servants with them carrying their bags.

Before Jareth transported them he stopped and made Sarah face him.

'I want you to be careful around Finvarra, Precious,' he cautioned. 'He is very dangerous, and has a bad reputation with human girls. Promise me you will be careful.'

'Sure. But I thought you liked him,' Sarah answered. 'You always speak so highly of him.'

'Finvarra is one of my greatest friends, but that does not change the fact of the matter. Now promise me.'

'Okay, I promise to be careful. Although you haven't really told me what I should be looking out for.'

Jareth smiled, and smashed the crystal he had conjured, transporting the two of them, the other lords and ladies who had been invited and their servants, in an instant, to Finvarra's Rath.

As the tendrils of magic faded from Sarah's mind she looked around curiously. They stood before a snow-covered hill with a deep gash dug into the side. She assumed that it was the entry into the brugh, but was proven wrong when, as the company approached, the hill split and a dark staircase appeared, leading down.

'What's with the hole in the hill?' she whispered to Jareth as they descended.

'I will tell you sometime,' he replied softly. 'It is quite a tale, but my Lord Finvarra does not like it to be told, for it tells the story of one of the few times he lost at his own game. Hurry, now.'

Deep down into the hill then descended, and when the stairs finally ended they found themselves in a great room, with pillars all around. The ceiling was high and the walls wrought of dark stone, and two lines of guards were posted, all them tall and holding themselves with a surreal beauty.

'Welcome, King Jareth of the Goblin City,' said a rich voice, and Sarah looked to the man who spoke, who was dressed in dark green and whose golden hair fell past his shoulders. 'Come: my lord awaits.'

'That is Finvarra's steward,' Jareth whispered to her, and she nodded, trying to remember what exactly a steward was.

The entrance hall opened into a great, grand hall. The ceiling was impossible to discern above them, and great windows stretched all along the wall, looking out upon the snow-shrouded countryside. Sarah didn't stop to wonder how this was possible, since they were so far underground, instead continuing her wide-eyed observation of the room.

Everything, from the wall to the furniture to the decor, was dark, either black or navy or forest green or deepest red. There was a gothic air to the place, and stone gargoyles peered out from the walls, each one carven to perfection. Tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of battle, or dark, beautiful forests, or hosts of fae on horseback galloping across the sky. Everything was delicate, and yet everything was harsh, the contradictions wonderful and beautiful and ethereal. Silver accents glinted in the sunlight which streamed through the windows. Without a doubt, Sarah had never seen a more imposing, more beautiful place.

And the people. All around the room, faeries lounged, standing together in groups or sitting at the delicate dark wood tables, playing chess and backgammon or simply talking. In Jareth's court there were faeries, of course, but not nearly as many and Sarah had never seen them all gathered together like this. She felt horribly self-conscious, very aware of her human plainness, as the courtiers turned to watch Jareth and his company stride across the room.

It wasn't until they stopped that Sarah managed to tear her eyes from the wonders around her to see exactly what they approached, but when she did her breath caught in her throat and she froze, immobilized. There were two thrones before her: one of black and one of silver. Upon the latter sat a woman whose beauty seemed almost tangible in the air about her. Her hair was golden, falling in waves about her shoulders and over her lap, and Sarah knew that, even if she stood, it would brush the ground. Her eyes were a deep, pure blue, her skin was porcelain, her features lovely and delicate. She was tall, and even as she sat Sarah could tell that her body was a beacon of perfection. Upon her regal brow there sat a silver circlet, and she wore a gown of shimmering grey gossamer whose simplicity merely accented her splendour.

And on the dark throne to her left sat the most beautiful man Sarah had ever seen. His hair was black a raven's feathers and fell across his shoulders, at stark contrast with his pale skin. His face was regal, somehow strong and delicate at once and his grey eyes held a depth and power that Sarah couldn't begin to fathom. No angel, no god, could be more perfect. And there was a sort of terrible harshness about him that added to the surreal majesty of his face and bearing. Sarah found herself hardly able to think, gazing on his magnificence. Who could not follow him, not long for his presence, though fear it at the same time? Who could bear to look away from his utter beauty? Now the room, which had been so splendid, seemed faded and dull. Nothing could compare this with paragon, so complete in his quintessence.

And then his deep, unfathomable grey eyes found hers, captivated her, drew her into him. Even had she wanted to, she would not have been able to look away, to escape from the contemplating gaze. It seemed that all of her faults, all of her mistakes and fears, were laid clear before her, that he could see deep into her soul and judge her, understand her perfectly. Fear and longing overcame her, and she struggled vainly to move, but to whether to approach or to retreat she knew not. It seemed that she was no longer a part of her body, but a separate entity. All that had made her Sarah had gone, disappeared without leaving a trace, and she lived only for this perfect, horrid, wondrous gaze. And then he smiled, and the all the world around her started to fall.

But there was a hand in hers. So she must have a body, if she could feel. And there was a voice, a beautiful voice, but a voice that wasn't _his_. There was something in that hand, in that voice, that made her wonder, made her doubt...who was she? Where was she? That voice...it meant something to her, didn't it? Yes...and by focusing on the voice, little by the little the world rebuilt itself around her, came into sharper focus.

Jareth. He was beside her, his hand gripped hers, his voice was in her ear. He wasn't speaking to her, but just the sound of his voice was enough to draw her from the entrancing eyes of the king before her.

'Rise, and be welcome,' another voice, this one rich and terrible and beautiful, commanded, and Sarah felt herself beginning to fall again...but the hand in her dragged her upright, and she realized that she, along with all the rest of the host, had been bent in a bow to the two figures on the thrones. She took a deep, shuddering breath, finally in control herself, and carefully looked anywhere but at the Dark King. The shining woman beside him drew Sarah's gaze. At the last minute she realized that she shouldn't look at her, either, but the blue eyes didn't draw her in the way the grey ones had, and the smile, when it came, was sad and comforting.

'May I present Lady Sarah?' Jareth said taking a step forward and drawing her with him. 'My lady, behold King Finvarra, High King of the Unseelie Court, and Queen Onagh, his consort.'

'Be welcome, Lady Sarah,' Onagh said in a voice like bells. 'Come, join my ladies and I, and let us leave the menfolk to their business.' She got to her feet, and although not a sound was made Sarah could tell that everyone in the room behind them had risen, too, as did Finvarra. And then a delicate, cool hand took her arm, and she was led away.

'Are you all right, Lady Sarah?' Onagh asked as soon as they were away, and Sarah looked at her curiously for a moment before realizing that the queen knew exactly what had happened to Sarah in the throne room.

'Yeah, I'm alright, Your Grace,' she replied shakily, completely unsure how to address the queen. The only royalty she had ever spoken with was Jareth. 'Um...did he do that on purpose?'

'Not entirely,' Onagh sighed. 'Looking on him is difficult, even for faeries. But he certainly did what he could to make it worse.'

'Jareth warned me to be careful,' Sarah sighed. 'He said that Finvarra—I mean, King Finvarra—has a bad reputation with human girls. I guess that's what he meant. It was like nothing existed anymore. There was only him.'

'I am afraid that that is the least of it, Sarah, and not at all what Jareth meant when he spoke of my husband's reputation. But you, I am sure, have little to worry about. Finvarra and Jareth are great friends.'

By this time they were in a comfortable, beautiful room, still dark but less so, where many faerie women sat talking or spinning. One of them, with long dark hair and violet eyes, sang a lovely, haunting tune as she embroidered.

'Come sit with me,' said Onagh, sitting down and gesturing to one of the faeries, who drew up another chair next to the throne for Sarah to sit.

'Thank you,' she said as she took the seat. 'I am sorry, Your Grace, but I have only been in Faerie for a few weeks, and your customs are still unfamiliar. I hope that I do not offend you, and I beg your forgiveness.' Sarah was shocked by the formality of the words she spoke, and looked away, blushing faintly. She must have learned something in the three months Underground.

But Onagh only laughed a friendly laugh.

'Have no fear, Lady, for I have spent little time with humans in the past, and your customs are an unfamiliar to me and mine are to you. Come, though, let us be friends.'

_Friends. _Sarah's heart lifted at the word. For whatever reason, Onagh didn't have the same aversion to her that everyone else in Faerie seemed to have.

'Yes,' and answered, 'I'd like that very much.'

The next few hours were blissful. While Sarah had appreciated Jareth's friendship very much, she had missed female company more than she had known. Onagh and her ladies-in-waiting showed Sarah how to spin and, although she was terrible at it, it was great fun, and before long it was time to start getting ready for the ball.

Onagh had countless attendants to help her prepare, and in the spirit of friendship she had them get Sarah ready, too. They bathed in scented water and their haired was combed and arranged to perfection. Sarah decided early on just to trust them and not intervene, and found herself relaxing as the nimble faerie fingers fixed her hair and her face and oiled her skin until it shone, and finally helped her into her dress. This time she didn't protest when they pulled the laces tight, even though she could hardly breathe when they were done. Jareth, typically male, hadn't thought to provide her with jewellery, and she hadn't wanted to ask, but luckily Onagh lent her a gorgeous necklace of emeralds, with matching bracelets, rings and, to Sarah's surprise, a circlet.

'I can't wear that,' she said, pushing away as the maids tried to fix it in her elaborate hairdo.

'Do you not want Jareth to see you as a princess?' Onagh asked, as her own silver tiara was set upon her glorious golden curls. 'Besides, you are his favourite, are you not? That makes you practically royalty.'

'His _favourite_?' Sarah asked uncomfortably. 'What's that supposed to mean? And anyway, it's tacky.'

'Tacky? I am not familiar with that term. But come, now, the sun is setting. The ball will start soon.' She tucked Sarah's hand into hers and pulled her from the dressing room, out into the audience chamber, where they had sat earlier.

'Now we wait, and our lords will come to collect us.'

They seemed to wait for a very long time. Sarah kept glancing out the window, and when the sun had been down for half an hour she finally complained, 'Exactly how long do faerie guys usually take to get ready? Look how late we are!' But Onagh laughed.

'Forgive me, I should have explained. The more important you are, the later you arrive. Everyone with a title is presented to the other guests as they descend the staircase into the ballroom.'

'Well, I'm not important and I certainly don't have a title. What am I still doing here?'

'My dear Sarah,' Onagh replied, 'You are King Jareth's escort. That makes you quite important. Jareth is one of the greatest Unseelie kings, second only to my lord Finvarra himself. I am afraid that you will be very fashionably late to the ball indeed.'

'I have no idea he was so important,' Sarah answered quietly. 'I mean, goblins, right? _Goblins_. Not elves or sorcerers or dryads or anything, but goblins.'

'You underestimate them. Goblins are very well-respected Underground and very fierce warriors.' Onagh smiled. Obviously the fact that her date was so important was supposed to make her happy, but it just made Sarah feel worse. What was he doing with her?

'Maybe I should pretend to be sick, and not go,' she said quietly. 'I don't belong here, and I certainly don't belong with Jareth. He's a king, a great king, and I'm just...a human girl. How will it look? I can hardly compare to faeries like you. It's ridiculous, now that I think about it, a faerie king being with a human.'

At that, though, Onagh's face closed like a book.

'You mistake yourself, Sarah,' she said coldly. 'You look lovely.' Sarah looked at her in horror, wondering what she had said.

'I—I'm sorry,' she said, guilt gripping her, although she didn't know what she had done. She finally had a chance at a friend, and it looked like she'd just spoiled it. 'I didn't mean—I didn't want to upset you. Sorry.'

'Upset? You have not upset me. Nothing can ever upset me.' She turned to one of her ladies-in-waiting, who were sitting with them, all dressed up for the ball, and said, her voice hard as frozen stone, 'Sing for us.' Immediately, the faerie began to sing, not meeting her mistress's eyes.

'I'm sorry,' Sarah whispered again. Earlier, while they had been getting ready, she had felt wonderful. It had been a flashback to getting ready for prom with her friends, almost like getting ready for her wedding but without the pressure and misgivings. Now, though, she felt wretched. She wanted to get out of here. She wanted to see Jareth.

As if in answer to her prayers, there was a knock on the door. Onagh flicked an icy finger, and one of her ladies scurried to open it, and there Jareth stood. Seeing him, Sarah's breath caught and she felt a silly smile forming on her face, and forgot why she had felt so terrible a moment before.

He looked very good. His clothing was something straight out of the middle ages, very ornate and fanciful, but very beautiful. It was similar to what he had worn in the Crystal Ballroom seven years earlier, but his long cloak was black as midnight, with deepest blue edging and dark blue, green and purple sparkles twisting in swirls up the back. His hair was as pouffy as usual, but he, too, wore a silver circlet.

It was none of this that made Sarah's heart melt, though. It was the way his face lit up when he saw her.

'Your Grace,' he said, bowing to Onagh, but he had eyes only for Sarah.

'Good evening, Jareth,' the queen said in her voice of ice. Finally Jareth looked over at her, looking perplexed at her tone, but then he turned back to Sarah, who got to her feet. Slowly, he approached her, and looked at her for a long moment before lifting her hand to his lips.

'You look beautiful,' he whispered, his eyes alive. Then, loud enough for the others to hear, he added, 'I am afraid I must steal Lady Sarah from you. My lord Finvarra shall be here within minutes.' He bowed to Onagh, and Sarah quickly curtsied, and they backed out of the room, pausing only to bow again at the door.

As soon as it was closed behind them Jareth turned and took her face in his hands.

'Sarah,' he said, gazing down at her, his whole face alight with pride and joy. He shook his head, apparently at loss for words, and Sarah blushed and looked away. Finally, he gently kissed the corner of her mouth, then tucked her arm into his and pulled her away.

'Come; it is time for us to enter.'

'You look great, by the way,' Sarah told him.

'Thank you,' he replied, sounding amused. Then, 'Sarah,' he said more quietly, 'did everything go all right with Onagh? I thought she might be upset with you, and she seemed...'

'Cold?' Sarah finished with a sigh. 'Everything went wonderfully, at first. Then I must have said something, but I have no idea what, and it made her mad. But why did you think she'd be upset with me?'

'Because of what happened with Finvarra when we arrived.'

'Oh,' Sarah answered, looking away again. 'Right. That. She told me that it's hard for anyone to look at him, especially humans. Are...are you upset with me?' She peered nervously up at him through her lashes. She hadn't even considered that fact that her becoming so enchanted by Finvarra might have upset Jareth.

'No, Sarah, I know how he is,' he replied with a smile, 'and so does Onagh, unfortunately. But what did you say to make her angry?' They had stopped in a sort of alcove, and there were richly dressed servants surrounding a pair of black velvet curtains towards which the two of them were ushered.

'I don't know. I was talking about how I don't belong here, because I'm human, and how I can't possibly compare to all of the faerie women. Something about how it's would be weird, you, a faerie king, being with a human.'

'Ah,' sighed Jareth. 'I see.'

'Why would that upset her?'

'Later, Precious,' he told her. They were whispering so that the servants wouldn't hear. 'But you wrong yourself, Sarah. You certainly surpass any faerie woman here in beauty.' And he turned her to face a mirror which hung on the wall nearby.

Sarah stared. She hardly recognised herself. The beauty in the mirror was dressed in an ornate, forest-green dress that matched her eyes perfectly. Under the green, beneath the lacing in the front and the outer-most skirt, the dress was black as coal, and it was all stitched with silver threat. Her creamy throat was adorned with a magnificent emerald necklace, something fit for a queen, and her silky, shining hair was curled and piled atop her head beneath the silver circlet. She wasn't a faerie...but she didn't look out of place at Jareth's side.

Before she could say a word, though, Jareth pulled her through the curtains at the bidding of the servants.

'King Jareth of the Goblin City and Lady Sarah,' someone announced as they descended the flight of stairs, and the dream began.

Sarah could not possibly have imagined a more beautiful night. It was a scene from a fairytale, and she felt very much the star. Everyone watched as Jareth swept her across the dance floor, but he had eyes only for her. He was a marvellous dancer, and even though she didn't know the steps he led her perfectly, and they slipped gracefully through the other couples. In the few minutes when they weren't dancing countless people came to meet her, to tell her how beautiful she was, to hope that she would come and visit them in various kingdoms across Faerie. Even after Finvarra and Onagh entered the ballroom attention wasn't taken from Sarah, because although the High King was up again from his throne just a moment after having sat down, the High Queen remained in hers, looking beautiful, but not very approachable. Which made Sarah, as Jareth's escort, the most important woman on the dance floor.

Only one person didn't seem to want to talk to her: a black-haired woman who glared with hazel eyes at Sarah and Jareth from across the room.

'Who's that?' Sarah asked discreetly and Jareth smirked.

'That, Dearest One, is Queen Aoibhinn.' Sarah laughed, and leaned back into Jareth's arms.

'This is amazing, Jareth,' she sighed. 'Thank you so much for bringing me here. This is a dream come true. I feel like a princess.'

'I want tonight to be perfect for you,' he answered.

'It is,' she assured him. She could feel the adoring smile on her face when she looked up at him, but she didn't mind. Everything was perfect. Her dress, the dance, and Jareth. He was perfect. Perfect for her. Why had she taken so long to figure that out?

'Jareth!' someone called as the song ended, and Sarah looked up to see some Faerie king who she had been introduced to, but whose name she couldn't remember. 'You do not dance for twenty years, and now suddenly you must dance to every song? Come, take a rest. Aoibhinn asks to speak with you. Let your lady mingle.'

'Why should I spoil the evening by wasting my time with her?' Jareth asked in an annoyed tone. 'Although I suppose she will make a scene if I do not. However, my lady is not accustomed to faerie balls; I will not leave her alone. Come, Sarah.' But Sarah slipped her hand from his, pulling away: she had no desire to get any closer to the dark queen.

'No, it's okay. I'll go get something to drink. Find me later, okay?' Sarah didn't want to be apart from Jareth, but the idea of just wondering through the crowd and being able to take in everything, without her king there to distract her, was appealing, too.

The ballroom really was beautiful. It couldn't compare with the Jareth's Crystal Ballroom, but then, could anything? Sarah smiled at everyone as she wondered around sipping something that tasted delightful from between the petals of a dark blue flower. Lots of people talked to her, and plenty of men asked her to dance, but she claimed to be tired, although she wasn't in the slightest, and walked on. Before long she caught sight of Jareth across the room, deep in conversation with Aoibhinn. Somehow sensing her gaze, he glanced up and smiled at her. Feeling the silly expression slipping back across her face, and she moved to stand at the edge of the ballroom, to watch the dancers and her king, who continued to glance over at her every few seconds, a very private smile on his face, even though he was in the middle of what seemed to be a very important conversation.

'His world would almost revolve around you,' said a soft voice in her ear, and she looked over in surprise to see Onagh standing beside her: she hadn't heard her approach.

'I am sorry about earlier,' the queen sighed. 'It was not your fault.'

'That's okay,' Sarah replied in wonder: could the night possibly get any better than this? Whatever she had done, Onagh had forgiven her, and she had a chance at a friend after all.

'Jareth loves you, does he not?' Onagh asked quietly, an unfathomable expression on her face.

'I don't know,' Sarah answered, and it was perfectly true. 'I _want_ him to love me, but I can't say if he does. He acts like he does...but what if he's just trying to seduce me?'

'A wise question,' Onagh replied, a bitter edge to her tone, 'but can be no doubt that he adores you.'

'Thank you,' said Sarah, ducking her head as she smiled.

'And what about you?' Onagh asked. 'Do you love him?'

'I don't know,' Sarah sighed, perfectly honesty. 'I don't even really know what love is. I'm _in_ love with him, that's for sure. But I don't know if it's more than that.'

For a long time they stood in silence. Then Sarah stirred, turned to the High Queen and said, 'So why haven't you been dancing? I mean, you're the High Queen. I'd think that you'd sort of own the dance floor. Where's King Finvarra?'

Sarah glanced around, and then she did see the High King, and he was dancing. Onagh could obviously see him too, but her pale face was blank. Then Sarah frowned: the girl he was dancing with was very obviously human.

_He has a bad reputation with human girls_, Jareth had told her.

'Human girls,' she said out loud, suddenly understanding. 'Finvarra likes human girls, doesn't he? What an asshole. That's why Jareth told me to be careful. That's why you got me away so fast when we arrived. That's why he played his little trick on me this afternoon. What...an..._asshole_.'

Onagh laughed bitterly. 'That is no way to talk about the High King. But somehow I cannot argue with you.' She turned away from the dancing couple and began to walk along the edge of the room. Sarah hurried to catch up. 'You need not worry, though. He values Jareth's friendship too much to pursue you, although he obviously couldn't help testing you earlier. And besides, his current pet is brand new, and I am sure he has not tired of her yet.'

'I'm sorry,' Sarah said lamely, not knowing what else to say. Onagh sighed.

'You are a lucky girl, Sarah, that is clear each time Jareth looks at you. Never forget it.'

'Why do you put up with it, Onagh?' Sarah demanded, completely forgetting to address the queen properly.

'I have no choice. I am High Queen of the Unseelie Court—that comes with a certain responsibility. I can do nothing but endure it. And even if I could,' she added with a sigh, 'I would not. Even though I know I should, I do not even want to leave him.'

'Do you love him?'

'Love him?' Onagh laughed. 'I despise him, Sarah. I loathe him. With every particle of my being, I hate him. But yes,' she sighed, 'yes, I love him.'

Sarah's heart cried out at the terrible sadness in Onagh's voice. Impulsively, she reached out and took the queen's hand, as she would comfort a friend. They walked along in silence for a few more minutes before either of them spoke again.

'You must forgive me,' Onagh said softly, 'I am not usually this open. I suppose it is the fact that you are a stranger her, and have no preconceptions. And the fact that you are a human, but I know that he will not—' She stopped and looked away.

'I just wish I could help.'

'Sarah?' She looked up to see Jareth approaching her, but looked back at Onagh. Perhaps the night would be more bearable if she had someone to talk to? But the queen slipped her hand from Sarah's and in an instant she was the imposing, beautiful Unseelie queen once more.

'Go and dance with your king,' she said, and disappeared into the crowd.

'Are you alright?' Jareth asked, concern etched into his features.

'Better,' Sarah sighed. She wanted to lean her head against his chest, to have him hold her close, but knew that that wouldn't be appropriate, so she just let him draw her into the dance. 'I feel very, _very_ lucky. I couldn't possibly ask for a more perfect night.' Everything seemed less dreary now that she was with Jareth again.

'I'm glad,' he answered, sparkling down at her. Onagh had asked if she loved him. Did she? When she was around him she felt happy. Wasn't that love?

'What did Aoibhinn want?'

'To demand that I surrender. I politely informed her that I do not discuss politics at parties.'

Sarah laughed, and for a while longer they danced happily, gazing into each other's eyes. It was a dream...but so much better. They didn't speak again until they passed Finvarra on the dance floor, with his arms around a girl who looked about sixteen.

'Hey Jareth?' Sarah asked then, narrowing her eyes at the couple. 'It would be high treason if I slapped Finvarra, wouldn't it?

'Yes, I am afraid it would,' Jareth laughed, and Sarah sighed.

'Dammit.'

But while Onagh's troubles saddened her, they couldn't detract from the beauty of the night, and the perfection of her partner, and when the sun finally rose Sarah didn't want it to end. She wanted to stay with Jareth.

_Do I love him?_ Sarah tried to sort through all of her emotions, tried to think things through, to figure out the answer. It was so hard to think logically, though. And then, all of a sudden, Sarah understood. Love didn't have anything to do with logic. You couldn't think love through, emotions couldn't be sorted. Love was about what you felt, not about what made sense. She was thinking like a human, when love would always be the domain of the fea.

_I love him_, she realized, and a great sense of peace came over her with the revelation.

'A room had been prepared for you,' Jareth told her as they exited the room. 'Come, I will show you.'

'I don't feel like going to bed,' she complained. 'I want to be with you.' The night before she would never have admitted it, but now she had acknowledged to herself the fact that she loved him. Why should she deny it?

'Can't we stay up a little and talk?' she asked as they reached her room and Jareth passed her the key, which Finvarra had apparently given to him earlier. 'Come on in.'

'That would be highly inappropriate,' Jareth protested, waiting at the door as she entered the beautifully furnished room.

'Stop living in the middle ages,' Sarah told him, smiling. 'We're just going to _talk_. And I promise not to tell anyone.' Taking his hand, she pulled him into the room, and went to sit on the low sofa of dark purple silk.

'So did you have a good time?' he asked, relaxing into the cushions.

'I had a wonderful time. It was indescribable. Thank you, Jareth...thank you so much.' She leaned forward and, for the first time, she kissed him, softly and gently. When she pulled away he put his arm around her shoulders and rested his head against hers, which she leaned on his shoulder.

'I had a wonderful time, too, my princess. Thank you for coming with me...for giving me another chance.'

'You know, that first ball wasn't so bad, actually. It didn't end well, but the ball itself...was everything I wanted. I used to dream about it,' she admitted quietly. 'All of those years Aboveground, every few weeks I would dream that I was back in the Crystal Ballroom with you.'

'Had you wished it,' Jareth whispered, 'I would have come to get you.'

'I did wish it,' Sarah sighed, closing her eyes against the light, 'I just never wished it out loud. Maybe I should have. Maybe I was running away from fate all those years. Maybe it was always my destiny to fall in love with you.'

At her words, Jareth leaned in to kiss her temple, and she could feel the smile on his lips; she lifted her head, and her lips met his, tenderly, gently.

Then the kiss changed, though, turned passionate, and Jareth pushed her back into the cushions, his hands skimming over her arms and stomach.

'I should leave now,' he whispered against her skin, but he held her all the tighter. Sarah didn't say anything, a dizzying thought entering her head. Could she...?

'Dearest,' Jareth murmured, 'I would never touch you against your will.'

'I know, Jareth,' she answered, running her fingers through his long blond hair. 'I love you.' The words came easily, so much more easily than she thought they would. It was a relief to voice it out loud. She loved him. Why shouldn't he stay?

He kissed her again, and she was still undecided. But then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the next room, lay her down on the bed, and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

'Jareth,' she asked softly as he untied the lacings of her dress, 'do you love me?'

'Silly Sarah,' he replied, his lips dancing over her skin. 'What do you think?' He kissed her again, and Sarah leaned back and let the dream consume her.

_

* * *

_

_I hope the Celtic mythology didn't bore you. If you want to know about the gash in the side of Knockma read the story called _Ethna the Bride_. And Finvarra really is a womanizing asshole who cheats on his wife with human girls. _

_And if you're getting fed up with the romance and the fluff and Sarah falling into Jareth's arms...please don't give up on me just yet. I promise that something interesting happens in the next chapter. _

_Anyway, thanks for reading :)_


	13. Chapter 13

_Thanks for the reviews. I hope you enjoy this, because I'm going away for while and I don't know if I'll be able to post anything else. _

* * *

'_I am yours and you are mine_

_Beneath the hills we're intertwined_

_You cannot even long to flee_

_Such is my power over thee.' _

**Chapter 13**

Sarah slowly rose back into consciousness. She smiled and rolled over, snuggling into Jareth, who put his arms around her and pulled her closer. It had been a week since the ball, and the two of them were lying curled together in Jareth's---now their—bed.

'Come, Precious, we must rise; I have much work to do,' he told her with a sigh, leaning down to kiss her shoulder.

'But I'm tired,' she complained, wrapping the blankets more tightly about her as he sat up at her side.

'Well, sleep for a few more minutes,' he told her, getting to his feet and walking to his luxurious bathroom. Sarah had tried to talk him into installing a shower, because always having to take baths drove her crazy, but he didn't understand why she protested.

Languidly, she slid from the bed. She was wearing a long, shimmery white nightgown that made her feel a bit like a virgin sacrifice but was actually surprisingly comfortable. When she wore it, Jareth called her his angel. Smoothing it around her hips, she walked over into the bathroom.

Jareth was reclined in an enormous bath. Personally Sarah thought it was a bit of a waste of water, but when she'd mentioned it he'd just looked at her in confusion, so she'd let it drop; apparently faeries weren't worried about water. Sitting behind him, Sarah ran her fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead.

'So you're actually going to work today,' she said. 'I'm amazed.'

'Well, I _am_ at war, Angel,' he replied, taking her wrist and bringing it to her lips. 'My knights and councillors have been making preparations for weeks, but the time will soon come for me to invoke Addanc's rage, and I must be ready.'

'Are your armies in place, then?'

'Yes, and so are Aoibhinn's. I should probably inform Finvarra that I am going to call on Addanc,' he mused, thinking aloud, and Sarah frowned.

'Can you also inform him from me that he's an asshole?' Jareth laughed.

'Sarah, my angel, you really should not be so judgemental. Finvarra is easily bored, and he has lived through uncountable ages. How can you blame him for wanting...variety?'

'Okay,' replied Sarah, 'and let's say I decide that _I_ want some variety. How would you feel about that?'

'It is entirely different,' Jareth replied.

'Why?'

'Because you are female.'

'That is so sexist!' Sarah cried, pulling her hand away and scowling. That was one thing about Faerie that continued to grate at her nerves: the very medieval treatment of women. She took a deep breath, controlling herself: she didn't want to get into an argument.

'It also bugs me how these girls are so willing and eager to let him take advantage of them,' she said. 'I mean, when a Faerie king came onto me I had no trouble resisting him.'

'No trouble whatsoever?' he asked, smiling. 'And it does not always work out well for Finvarra: there have been girls to resist him. Once, he convinced a pretty peasant to dance with him and brought her Underground, but she managed to escape before the sun had even set.'

'How?

'Another faerie helped her. He warned her not to drink or eat anything, and gave her a sprig of _Athair-Luss_, an herb which will let humans out of a brugh.'

'Okay,' Sarah answered. 'That doesn't make it much better for Onagh, though. He wanted to cheat on her, he just didn't manage it.' With a sigh, she got to her feet. 'I'm going to get dressed.'

Jareth was very busy for the next few days. He seemed to be constantly in meetings, or carving symbols into stones and working ancient magic, which was nothing the way Sarah had thought it would be: no flashing lights or coloured smoke, just a strange sense of a shift in the world around her. It was fascinating at first, but she couldn't deny that it got a little boring after a while. She had nothing else to do, though, and besides, Jareth still insisted that she remained with him all day long. It didn't help that the war wasn't going well, which made him more and more irritable each day.

_He's under a lot of stress_, Sarah consoled herself as she sat bored in the corner of a round stone room, while Jareth appealed to the spirits of nature or something. That morning he had sent three goblins to the bog of eternal stench because they hadn't gotten out of his way fast enough as he moved across the room, and when two of his subjects had come before him with an argument about the ownership of a cow he had responded by killing the cow in question. A few minutes earlier Sarah had been reading, but he had snapped angrily at her because the rustling of the pages was bothering him, and had turned the book to a pile of ash.

_You have to be patient. He needs you to be there for him right now_. And indeed, she could never remain angry with Jareth for more than a few minutes. The day wore on, slowly, but at last Jareth stepped from the stone dais seeming relatively satisfied, and Sarah climbed to her feet.

'So how did that go?' she asked as they left the room.

'Well,' he replied. 'I believe that Midir is helping me. He cannot do so officially, of course, because he is a Seelie king, but the magic is working far too easily.'

'It's kinda weird, that you're friends with a Seelie king and at war with an Unseelie queen. I mean, are you even allowed to be friends with Midir?'

'Of course,' Jareth replied. 'It is made easier by the fact that he is not very obedient to the High Seelie King, but even Finvarra and Midir are friends.'

'Really?' Suddenly, Sarah thought of something. She was getting very tired of sitting about the castle while Jareth raged and made arrangements for his war, but until now she had always thought that she didn't have anything else to do, so she might as well be with him.

'Hey Jareth,' she said, 'Can I go visit Onagh? I find myself yearning for female company.'

'Sarah,' he answered, looking displeased. 'I am in the middle of a war. I cannot just decide to go on vacation and besides, it would look as though Finvarra were helping me against Aoibhinn.'

'I know,' Sarah said quickly, 'but can't I just go?' Jareth looked at her in confusion for a moment, and then seemed to understand what she was saying.

'No,' he said shortly, entering the library and beginning to search through the books.

'Why not?' Sarah asked indignantly. 'Then I won't get in your way, and you won't have to worry about me always hanging around while you're doing dangerous magic.'

'I do not want you alone in Finvarra's court,' he told her, finding the book he wanted and going to a table while Sarah trailed behind him.

'Oh, give me a break. He's your friend, Jareth, he'll leave me alone. And I think that I've already proven myself capable of resisting faerie kings.' Jareth was skimming through the book. Sarah crossed her arms, waiting for him to answer, and when he didn't she irritably said, 'Jareth?'

He looked up quizzically, and then seemed to remember what they had been talking about.

'I want you here, with me.' He smiled, apparently expecting her melt the way she usually did when he said something like that. This time, though, it irked her.

'But—'

'My answer is no, Sarah. And I am trying to read,' he snapped, looking back down at the text. She stared at him in fury for a moment, then turned and her heel and marched towards the door. It slammed shut just before she reached it.

'Where are you going?'

'For a walk in the gardens,' she said. 'I'm tired of being cooped up inside all the time.'

'You seem to forget that my labyrinth is dangerous. Can you not just sit still for a few minutes? I will take you out later.'

'I want to be _alone_, Jareth,' she told him, crossing her arms, but he ignored her, going back to his book. Raging, she pulled vainly at the doorknob before storming across the room, as far from Jareth as possible.

Jareth looked up in irritation as she stomped away. What was wrong with her? Could she not see that he was at war, and couldn't spend every minute romancing her? He shook his head in annoyance, then pushed Sarah from his mind and began to read again, quickly taking down notes. He would have one chance to bend Addanc's will to his, and if he failed the results could be disastrous.

It didn't take Jareth long to find the information he needed. Copying it carefully down, he sat back in his chair. Everything was ready. As soon as his general let him know that he was in position, he would work the magic. At the prospect, he smiled: ancient magic was really his favourite kind of work. This war had come at such a bad time, though.

With a shallow sigh, he got to his feet. No matter. Within a few days it would be over, and then...well, then all that remained was to enjoy eternity. He smiled.

'Sarah,' he called softly, weaving his way between the shelves, 'come on, now, let us go.' There was no response. He sighed in annoyance and, because the library was immense, conjured a crystal to show him where she was. When he got there, he saw her curled in a chair, glaring at the pages of a book so fiercely that he was amazed it didn't catch on fire. A smile curled across his lips.

'Come, Precious. You can bring your book, if you like.'

'I wouldn't like, Jareth,' she replied, snapping the book closed. 'I didn't even want to read it in the first place. There was a book I wanted to read, but it's lying in a pile of ashes.'

'Sarah, my heart,' he said quietly, pulling her gently to her feet. 'Do not be angry with me. I want to be with you. How can you fault me for that?'

Sarah looked at him for a long moment, and eventually the anger in her eyes faded. 'Sorry,' she sighed. 'I'm not really angry, just frustrated. I'm not used to such confinement.'

'Never mind,' Jareth replied. 'Let us go. Do you still want to walk in the gardens?'

He drew her from the room, feeling very glad to have her. Around Sarah he didn't have to play courtier: she wasn't constantly on her guard to see what she could get from him. He could just be himself. Certainly, she still had much to learn about living Underground. She seemed to expect him to do whatever she wanted, as he had done while he was courting her, and of course he would, as long as her request was for the best. She was his now, though, and it was his will that mattered. She couldn't fight him anymore, and soon she would just accept it.

_She is mine_, he thought happily to himself as they walked along. _At last, she belongs to me_.

Sarah's thoughts were not so certain. She knew only one thing for sure, and that was that she loved Jareth. But could she stand to live here with him, when he was so...controlling and irritable?

_It's just because of the war,_ she told herself. _Everything will be fine as soon as he's beaten Aoibhinn. _

And sure enough, the very next day Jareth got the message he'd been waiting for.

'I want you to wait here,' Jareth told her, leaving her in their room. With a twist of his fingers he conjured a crystal. 'This is very dangerous magic,' he said, passing it to her. 'Should anything appear to go wrong, just break this and it will transport you to safety.'

'Where will it take me?'

'To Midir's court. But I doubt you will need it.'

'Okay.' Sarah was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. Why had she been so hard on him these last few days? What if something went wrong, and she never saw him again? At the thought, tears prickled her eyes for the first time in weeks, and she stepped forward, putting her arms around him and pressing her face to his shoulder. 'Be careful,' she said, her voice muffled. He pulled her closer for a moment, then kissed her head and pulled away, heading for the door.

'I love you,' she called as he closed it behind him.

Sarah spent the next few hours in a state of terrible agitation. She paced from one room to the next, wishing that she'd paid more attention to what he was actually going to do. She knew that Addanc was some sort of water spirit or god and that Jareth wanted to flood the canyon where Aoibhinn's forces were positioned, but little more than that. If it went wrong it could flood the city, killing hundreds or thousands of people...or else the magic could just consume Jareth. Sarah knew that it was immoral of her, but she couldn't help hoping that, if anything happened, it was the former, because at least in that case he would have a chance. She shivered, realizing that she'd rather sacrifice countless innocent lives than lose him.

Finally, after several agonizing eternities had crawled past, a knock came at the door. Sarah leapt to her feet and ran to answer it, horror seeping through her. Jareth wouldn't knock at his own door. Why was someone else coming to talk to her? And what news would they bring her?

'My lady,' Aelfric said as she threw the door open.

'What happened?' she demanded, forgetting formalities.

'Everything went as planned,' he told her, and Sarah sagged against the doorframe in relief. 'Where is His Grace?' she asked when she could, her voice still choked.

'He sits in his throne room, and asked me to bring you to him.' Aelfric offered her his arm, even though, as a goblin, he was far shorter than she, and she took it and let him lead her through the castle.

Jareth sat collapsed on his throne. He looked exhausted, but also very pleased with himself, and he smiled haggardly when she entered the room. Sarah sighed in relief when she saw that he wasn't even injured. She stared at him for a moment, then ran forward and threw herself into his arms. They were surrounded by goblins, but she really didn't care; besides, everyone knew that she was his mistress by now.

'I was so scared,' she whispered as he held her close.

'You should not have been; I am a very powerful person,' he told her, smiling. 'The canyon is flooded. My spies have infiltrated Aoibhinn's army, and they shall contact me when the time is right, so I can kill her.'

Sarah couldn't help shuddering at the cold words. Still, when she was apart from Jareth, the memory of the person _she_ had killed came back to plague her. How could he speak of it so nonchalantly?

'Do you really have to be the assassin?' she asked, for she also worried about the danger he would put himself in. 'Why not have one of your soldiers do it?'

'Because the queen will not be easy to kill,' he replied, settling her into his lap. 'Besides, some of my servants managed to capture one of her guards, and I have interrogated him. I now know a great deal about her defences that no one else knows.'

'I just wish you'd be careful,' she sighed, relaxing in his lap.

'This will all be over soon,' he promised her. All that remains now is to wait.'

And wait they did. To Sarah's disappointment, Jareth's mood seemed only marginally improved. At first he seemed happy, but as soon as anyone did the least thing to annoy him he reverted to the dark, brooding, dangerous Goblin King he had been for the last few days.

'Jareth,' Sarah told him later in the afternoon, after he exploded at a couple of servants for absolutely no reason and exiled them for thirteen years, 'I was really worried about you this morning. And I love you. But you are really starting to get on my nerves.'

'Forgive me, Pet,' he replied, pulling her closer. 'What is it that displeases you?'

'Can't you be a little less grumpy and mean? Stop giving people ridiculous punishments. Seriously.'

'Princess, I am the king; it is my job to punish people,' he told her, sounding slightly annoyed.

'No, it's your job to be just. Revoke the exile, Jareth, it was entirely unfair.'

'Do not be ridiculous.' This time, there were faint traces of anger on the edges of his voice. Sarah twisted to look him in the eye.

'I know you're stressed out, but you're being a bad king. Not to mention an asshole. Now revoke the exile.'

Immediately, with absolutely no warning, Sarah found herself pinned to the back of the throne. Jareth was standing over her, one hand pulling her hands above her head and the other at her throat, holding her down.

'You forget whom you are speaking to, my precious pet,' he told her, his voice like ice. 'This is my kingdom, and I will do as I please. And you will hold your silence.'

For a moment he glared down at her, and despite herself she felt fear grip her. Then his touch turned gentle, his fingers caressed her neck, ran over her collar bone and down her shoulder. The sudden intimacy after the harsh violence shocked Sarah, immobilizing her as she tried to figure out what to feel, and Jareth lifted her up and settled her back into his lap, leaning in to kiss her temple.

'Let go of me,' Sarah finally said, her voice saturated with fury. How dare he? She struggled to free herself from his arms, but he was far stronger than her.

'Sit still, my pet,' he murmured into her hair, pulling her against him.

'Don't call me that!' Usually she loved the pet names he had for her; now, though they seemed almost perverse. His _pet?_ Was that what she was?

'Do not defy me,' he whispered, his voice a dangerous hiss. All around, the goblins cowered into corners, watching fearfully, and Sarah realized that she couldn't argue with him in front of his court. Furious, trembling all over with rage, Sarah sat still, taking deep breaths to control herself.

_It's just the war_, she reminded herself over again. _He'll be back to normal soon_. She kept her silence.

A few minutes later, though, Queen Cliodna's ambassador came to see Jareth. Sarah, blushing as his gaze wandered scornfully over her, tried to wriggle from Jareth's arms again, but he wouldn't let her go, and in her embarrassment her anger grew.

Finally, the ambassador left; Sarah couldn't even say what they had discussed.

'This waiting grows dull,' Jareth sighed conversationally, apparently entirely unaware that she was glowering at the opposite wall and that his goblins, who usually entertained him, were trembling in fear. 'Come, Princess, sing us a song.'

'I'm not in the mood to sing,' she replied, her voice tight.

'Precious,' he sighed, 'do as I say.'

_Fear me, love me, do as I say_.

Sarah's breath caught. _I will never let him rule me_, she told herself firmly._ I love him, that much is true...but he must treat me as an equal. I have to show him that._

'Alright, fine,' she said, forcing herself to relax. 'One sec, let me think of what to sing.' But she already knew exactly what she was going to sing: what she was really waiting for was for Jareth's arms to loosen around her in response to her more agreeable demeanour. When they did, she quickly slipped from his lap before he could stop her, and began to sing.

'_I'm not your chambermaid  
You're not my lord  
All the fine games we played  
Have left me bored  
I never want to see you come around my castle  
'Cause I just can't afford to love you  
I'm not your chambermaid  
You're not my lord…'_

Sarah didn't look at Jareth while she sang, afraid of what she might see. When the song was over though, she turned to meet his gaze, which was blank but cold as ice. For a moment they watched each other.

'I do love you,' she told him softly. Then she walked over to the goblins. 'Come on,' she said, 'let's play a game.' Over the weeks she had befriended them, and while they still watched Jareth nervously they consented to come out of their hiding places, and later, when they went to supper, the king didn't seem angry with her. On the contrary, he appeared triumphant, almost smug.

_We'll talk about all this later_, Sarah promised herself. _We'll sort it out. The only reason he's like this is because of this stupid war, and as soon as it's over we'll talk all this through. I won't let it stand between us. _

Jareth had no such qualms. _She is mine_, he thought smugly as he watched her the rest of the day, her declaration after her song had proven that. As long as she loved him and feared him—and both were true, as today had made clear—then she belonged to him, because while she might argue occasionally for now, she would never truly defy him.

And why should she? All he wanted was to make her happy. He loved her. Luckily, Sarah seemed to have spent all of her anger already that morning, because she seemed perfectly agreeable for the read of the evening.

'So how long do you think it'll be before you get the green light to assassinate Aoibhinn?' she asked him that night. Jareth, lying in bed reading while he waited for her, glanced up and smiled to see her sitting at the mirror in her long white nightgown brushing her hair: she truly looked like an angel.

'Not long, my angel,' he told her, putting the book away as she stood and came to lie down. 'Almost certainly tomorrow.' He pulled her close and kissed her tenderly.

'I love you,' she whispered, and he smiled, his hands at her hips.

'I know, Angel,' he answered, his lips caressing her skin, and she closed her eyes, surrendering to him.

_Mine_.

***

'Retreated,' Jareth repeated, the syllables falling like stones. 'She _retreated_?' Incredulously, Jareth looked around at his council. Unseelie monarchs didn't just retreat.

'Yes, my liege,' replied the messenger. 'When the flood ravaged her troops she fell back to the official border. The war is over.'

'Evidently,' he answered. For a moment everyone sat in silence, and then he waved a hand irritably, dismissing the council; he himself didn't rise, though, as they all bowed themselves from the room.

'Well, that's good,' said Sarah brightly from her chair. 'You won the war, and you don't have to assassinate anyone.'

'And I am left with a living enemy, when I could have rid myself of one and greatly expanded my kingdom in one blow,' he answered, getting to his feet. 'Come.' She looked a little put out, but followed him meekly as he strode from the room.

As the hours wore on, though, and Jareth gave his generals orders on how to respond to the retreat, he decided that it was a good thing, after all. Aoibhinn probably wouldn't attack him again for another few hundred years, and he would be better prepared next time. And now he would have nothing to do but enjoy himself. And so he did.

Sarah had been ecstatic when she'd heard that the war was over. Jareth would go back to normal now, and he wouldn't have to endanger himself. At first, to her surprise and disappointment, he had seemed almost angry that he had won so easily, but as the day progressed his mood improved.

It was mid-February, and the days were beautiful. Now that Jareth didn't have to be in war councils constantly he took he out to the gardens sometimes, although not as much as Sarah would have liked. Now that he was less stressed, though, Sarah reasoned, he probably wouldn't be so controlling. Besides, he wouldn't need the same level of support anymore, so she wouldn't have to stay with him all the time anymore.

'It's snowing,' she commented casually, a week after the war ended. 'Isn't it beautiful?'

Jareth glanced out the window. He had just slaughtered one of his knights at chess, so Sarah thought he would probably be in a good mood.

'I can never decide which season I like best,' he replied, smiling at her. 'Each one seems more magical than the last.'

'I know, neither can I,' Sarah told him. 'Winter certainly seems more magical than ever here in Faerie, though.'

'Everything is more magical here, Dearest,' he told her with a smile, and she laughed.

'I'm gonna go for walk,' she told him lightly, getting to her feet.

'Not now, Precious,' he said. 'I will take you out later.'

'It's okay, I'll just go alone.' With a last smile, she turned and began to move towards the door.

'Sarah,' Jareth replied, his voice low and dangerous, 'come here.'

Not wanting to argue in front of all of the people, Sarah kept the smile on her face as she walked back towards him, close enough to keep their conversation private.

'What's the big deal?' she asked quietly through her smile. 'It's nice out, I feel like being outside.'

'Later,' he insisted. 'Sit down.'

'Why can't I just have half an hour on my own?'

'I want you here, with me.'

'Jareth,' she said in exasperation, 'It's half an hour! And we weren't even talking. Why do we have to be together every minute of every day? Jareth,' she looked down at him, making sure that he was listening. 'I'm not going to run away.'

'I am not worried about that,' he replied, waving a hand dismissively. 'You belong with me, and you will stay with me unless I send you from my company. Now _sit down_.' The force and power in his words had Sarah in her seat before she could think.

'Maybe we do belong together, _Goblin King_,' she hissed. 'But that doesn't mean that I belong _to_ you.'

'And what else would it mean?' Jareth asked. Now that she had sat down, though, he hardly seemed to be paying attention to her anymore.

'_What_? I really hope you're kidding, Jareth,' she said, hardly bothering to keep her voice down. 'What happened? When did you get like this? You were so nice and considerate before, and now you're just a control-freak.'

'Before? You mean when I was courting you? Well, you can hardly expect me to spend my whole life romancing you, Sarah. It is true that all I want is for you to be happy, so if it is really that important that you go outside right now, then all right, I will take you.'

'That's not the point, Jareth,' Sarah told him, simmering in anger. 'Are you telling me that wasn't the real you?'

'Good, in that case let's stay here,' he answered. 'And of course it was the real me. That is an aspect of my personality. But it is not my whole personality, and right now I feel like sitting warmly inside. And you will do as I say.'

'You don't own me, Jareth!' Sarah hissed. She could feel her face growing hot with anger.

'I beg to differ. Now are you going to argue with me, and insist on going out alone?' He turned his commanding, mismatched eyes to her, holding her gaze.

'No,' she sighed, 'I'm not gonna argue. But I'm _not_ happy.' What was the point of fighting? He could always just trap her in the room, as he had in the library. And anyway, if she was honest with herself, she found it very hard to say no to him.

_He's a product of the world he lives in_, she thought drearily as she settled back into her seat, glaring. _It isn't really such a big deal, I suppose. Sure, he's a little controlling. But he's a good person at heart, and I love him, and we have time. He can learn to treat me with respect._

For the moment, though, he was really pissing her off. She would sit with him, if it was such a big hairy deal. But she would make sure he knew that she was very displeased with him.

So far, though, she wasn't doing a great job, because Jareth didn't seem to see that her anger persevered.

'Play chess with me,' he said amiably, spinning the board between them.

'No, thanks,' she answered frostily.

'Come, now.' He smiled, reached across and moved forward the pawn that she always started with. Glowering, Sarah pushed the board away.

'I don't feel like playing chess.'

'Sarah.' His smiled was gone, and he was no longer Jareth, but the Goblin King. Slowly, watching her, he moved his own piece, and slid the board back towards her.

'Jareth,' she replied, 'I want to go outside. Alone. You told me not to, and I agreed. I didn't make a scene. I consent to sit here with you, because you want it so badly. But I will not play chess with you.'

He didn't look away, though, didn't release her from his forceful gaze. Sarah felt coldness creeping up inside her.

'Oh, fine!' she cried, angrily lifting another piece and slamming it down. 'Jesus Christ, you're so—' she cut herself off with a furious huff of breath and crossed her arms.

'You are not even trying,' Jareth said reproachfully a few minutes later as he captured her second bishop.

'Who cares? You always win, anyway. Can't I just surrender now?'

'No need,' he answered icily, moving his knight to checkmate her king. Then, with a flick of his fingers, the pieces were all back where they belonged. 'This time try,' he commanded.

'Good grief, Jareth. You can make me sit here, and you can make me play with you, but there's no way in hell you can make me try.'

'Sarah, I am your king and you will obey me,' he ordered, his voice threatening punishment with each word. Sarah stared at him.

'Are you serious?' she asked softly. 'Are you _serious_?' For a moment her face was a livid mask of anger, but then it faded to neutral.

'Of course, Your Majesty,' she said politely, lowering here eyes and moving a piece. Then she folded her hands in her lap. She thought about the game, thought through each move, and lost terribly, as usual. For the rest of the day she sat in silence, answering him when he spoke to her, keeping her eyes respectfully down at all times. That evening, after supper, he did take her for a walk in the gardens, and she rested her arm on his and smiled and listened when he spoke to her and replied when it was expected, and to her fury he didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

'It always astounds me,' he told her softly, 'how snow appears so white at first, but how when you look more closely you see it sparkle with every colour imaginable.' He reached out and lifted a handful of powdery snow from a bush as they passed, holding it out. Sarah looked, and she did indeed see all shades of red and blue and purple shimmering there in the moonlight.

'It's beautiful,' she told him, and the words came out a little more heartfelt than she meant them to. She didn't look up, but she knew he was smiling.

'Flowers do not bloom in winter Aboveground, do they?' he asked, drawing her closer to his side.

'No. That's one of the things I love about winter here,' she replied, and then closed her eyes, berating herself. She wasn't supposed to be responding to him. The problem was that this Jareth, the thoughtful, kind, interesting, romantic Jareth, was the side of him that she loved best.

Beside her, he sighed and stopped, suddenly, turning to face her blocking her path. With his gloved fingers he gently lifted her face to make her look at him.

_I won't let him kiss me_, Sarah resolved. _Not now_. He didn't try to, though.

Sarah,' he said quietly, 'I can tell that you are troubled. Tell me, what is wrong? All afternoon you have been...distant. What is it?'

So he _had_ noticed. That was something. And when he looked down at her like that, with concern and adoration in his eyes... He was a good person, and he did care about her.

Sarah sighed and looked away, ashamed of the tears that threatened to spill over.

'I love you, Jareth,' she said quietly.

'I know,' he answered, smiling. 'But you have loved me for years. That cannot be the problem.'

'Jareth,' she repeated, turning to look him in the eye, 'I love you. But you can't be my king and my lover. It doesn't work—you have to choose.'

'Why?' he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed. 'I do not understand.'

'I'm not your subject, and I'm definitely not your slave. I'm not going to obey you. If this is going to work, if it's going to happen at all, then I need you to respect me. Otherwise...I can go back to being a servant, and wait out the next seven years alone.'

'Do not be ridiculous; you know that I am not going to let that happen.'

'Jareth,' she cut him off abruptly, staring him straight in the eyes. 'I thought that I'd already made this clear. I_ will not let you rule me_.' The words seem to hit him like a physical blow. Or perhaps it was their significance. Suddenly his closeness seemed intimidating as opposed to intimate.

'Sarah,' he told her furiously, 'when will you understand? When will you understand that you belong to me? I can do what I like with you, and fortunately for you what I want is for you to be happy. But I _am_ your king, and whatever else I am, I will always have power over you. You are mine.' How dare she defy him? Jareth glared at her, his hand on her face suddenly threatening.

'I'm not your possession!' Sarah screamed, stumbling backwards, away from him. 'I'm not your precious, I'm not your pet, I'm not your freaking angel. Get that through your head. And Jareth?' she paused for a moment and then said softly and forcefully, 'You have _no_ power over me.' With that, she turned and stormed away through the snow.

Jareth stood rooted to the spot. He could feel the pain tearing physically through him, burning him, branding him. How could she say that? How could she hurt him in that way? Agony pounded through him. With a scream of pain and fury, Jareth spun about, his fingers curling as he unleashed a torrent of magic.

She didn't love him. She said she did, the little lying Delilah, but she didn't, she couldn't, not if she would say that. He had done everything to make her happy—just like last time. He'd thought that she'd come to understand, but she hadn't.

In the wake of Jareth's fury, snow melted as under a fire, and then froze again in jagged crystals, only to evaporate into the air. Wildlife cowered, the trees and bushes leaned away from him in terror. And he was glad. He wanted to hurt someone, to make someone understand even a fraction of the pain he felt. How could she? He had made her a princess. He had handed her her dreams on a plate of crystal, and she had taken his gift wholeheartedly. How could she betray him now? And for what reason: because he wanted to be with her. He loved her. Loved her, and wanted to spend all of his time in her company, to make up for the twenty years they had wasted apart. How could that anger her? Surely she wanted to be with him, too? He didn't understand. Was this all because he hadn't let her go outside that afternoon? He would have, if she had wanted it so badly. He could deny her nothing.

Spent, beaten, crushed, Jareth fell to his knees on the softened ground, melted snow seeping through his clothes, soaking him. He bowed his head, trying to suppress the memories, the recollection of her first rejection, when she had torn his heart from his chest. Finally, now, it was beginning to grow back, some faint colour was returning to his life. Could he bear it if she did that again? Could he live through it?

'Sarah,' he whispered, his fingers digging into the moist earth, 'what do you want from me? I would hand you the world, should you ask it. And all I ask in return is the pleasure of your company. Is that so unreasonable?' A dry sob shook through his shoulders as he knelt in the dirt.

And then, in an instant, his anger returned. Power shimmered in the air about him as he rose to his feet, livid. He wanted to fight, to take this out on someone. A treacherous part of his mind suggested punishing Sarah, but then his whole being shied away from it: he could never hurt her. He couldn't even bear the thought of it. He would kill himself before he would ever lay a hand on her.

Jareth found himself at the doors to his castle, although he couldn't remember walking there. Pain and anger still coursed through his veins, ice and fire side by side. He strode through the halls, unleashing his magic at random with no regard to the consequences. Everywhere he went people fled, and he revelled in it, revelled in the fear he caused, because it was some form of release.

_You have no power over me.._. His Crystal Ballroom, built specifically for her, smashed to pieces...

_Have no power over me_... His Escher room, falling around him in ruins...

_No power over me._.. His heart, torn to shreds within him, screaming in agony, and he could not silence it...

And now, again, those same words. How could she repeat them, knowing they would do to him?

But maybe she didn't know. The thought struck Jareth, a shining ray of hope in the darkness, and she came to a sudden stop. He had never told her how terrible that time had been for him, how lonely, how dark, how painful. He had never made her understand what she had done to him, how much he had loved her and how she had torn him apart. So maybe she hadn't meant to hurt him this much. Maybe she just wanted to make a point. Maybe she did love him.

Breathing heavily, Jareth flicked his fingers. He had spent so much magic already that the crystal came only unreadily, but come it did, to show a picture of Sarah, his beloved Sarah, lying across their bed, sobbing. Immediately, his heart went out to her. She was in pain, too. And that he couldn't stand. How he wanted to go to her, to gather her into his arms and comfort her.

It was strange. All those nights for the first few weeks of her stay Underground he had watched her weep, and had known that he couldn't go to her. Now he could...and yet he couldn't. His anger still coursed too fiercely, and he could see that hers did, too. If he spoke to her now she may very well just push him away. Still, she was there, in their room, waiting for him. Jareth took a deep breath. He would control himself, suppress his fury, and then go and make things right. He would make her understand how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how they belonged together. She couldn't be happy without him—the seven years she had spent without him had proven that. Even she had admitted how miserable she had been. She would understand. She must.

Jareth looked around, seeing with surprise that he was in the dungeons. As he stormed through the castle he had paid no heed to where he was going. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. He stood in a front of a cell from which a bruised and broken faerie knight peered out at him curiously. The iron bars all around certainly weren't improving Jareth's mood.

'Something upset you, Goblin King?' the prisoner asked in a voice far rougher than any faerie's should be, and Jareth remembered who he was: Aoibhinn's guard. The one whose information had been useless in the end, because he hadn't had to assassinate the queen.

'I can do whatever I like to you,' Jareth told him, beginning to get control of his temper. 'You would do well to speak to me with respect.' The prisoner only laughed.

'I am your prisoner, it is true. But you can do nothing to me, nothing that matters. You can try, but nothing you do will affect me on anything more than the most basic of levels. No, Goblin King: you have no power over me.'

_You have no power over_. Her words, coming from another's mouth. They were still her words though, and in this different voice they mocked him horribly, whispering hateful lies, muttering that she didn't love him, had never loved him, she wanted to hurt him she wanted to destroy him to tear out his heart again, cruel girl those words and he couldn't stand it, it was too much again and again they bit into him, hot and cold in one rage bubbling up boiling over and how dare this man say THOSE WORDS, they were _her_ words and he said them and he didn't understand and neither did she and pain, _pain_ PAIN—

And then the man, the traitorous man, he was suspended in the air by magic chains. The torture implements were close at hand, the knives, the hooks, the wrenches, the scissors, the brands. The fire was burning somehow, he hadn't done that intentionally but it was done, and the prisoner was screaming and Jareth was tearing into him, taking all of his pain and fury out on this cruellest of men. Someone had to pay, someone had to pay for this pain, and it couldn't be his Sarah. So it would be this horrible man, the man who repeated the words that had all but killed him, all those years ago.

***

Sarah buried her face in the pillow. It smelled like Jareth. At first this was comforting, but then it just made her cry harder.

It hadn't just been the war. This was actually what he was like. He thought that she was his possession. He didn't want a partner, he wanted a concubine, a slave. He didn't love her, he just wanted to own her.

How had she gotten herself into this? How had she managed to fall in love with someone like him? When she'd found herself back in his court she had warned herself to remain on her guard, she had known that he was dangerous. But she had let him in anyway, and handed him her heart. How could she have been so stupid?

Eventually, Sarah's tears seemed to run out, and she sat up, clutching the pillow to her chest. Every once and a while the walls would tremble, as though in an earthquake, but she couldn't bring herself to wonder what was happening.

_Jareth..._

Was this really the end? He was the love of her life, there was no denying that. He was her fairytale dream, her prince charming. He was everything she wanted...and everything she couldn't accept. She had never been the kind of girl to let a man dominate her. But she loved him. She loved him anyway.

A tear slid down Sarah's cheek as she thought of all he had done for her. Seven years ago, he had given her the adventure she craved, an escape from the life she hated. He could have trapped her in his labyrinth forever, but he had let her through. He had sent Hoggle to let her out of the Oubliette, he had conveniently dropped her right on top of Ludo when they were sent to the bog, he had sent a band of jesters in the place of his real army to stop her, with strict instructions not to hurt her. He had made her feel like a heroine, even though she knew now that he would never really have turned her brother into a goblin. He had given her tests, made her prove herself, had shown her that she was worth something, which she had been seriously doubting. And then, after everything, he had let her go.

And this time...he had been so kind, so caring. She remembered that time she had fallen down, when she'd been nothing but the lowliest of servants, and how he'd gone out of his way to comfort her and improve her situation. She remembered out much fun she'd had with him, in the early stages of their romance, when they'd just sit around and talk, or play games, or he'd introduce her to the wonders of the Underground, and her heart swelled with love.

_He's a good person at heart,_ she reminded herself, rubbing her throbbing eyes. She hadn't been fair to him. It had been cruel, to say what she had said. She should go and apologize. They'd both had time to calm down, and they could really talk now. She would tell him how much she loved him, say that she wanted to try to make it work. Hope that he would try with her. If he loved her he would make an effort. They could compromise.

He was a fairytale prince incarnate, after all. Something out of a Disney movie, including the romantic soundtrack. He was a good king, he loved his people; his morals were sound, and he would never dream of hurting anyone—after all, his punishment of choice was the bog, which it turned out wasn't even eternal after all. She would apologize. After all, those were the things that were really important. Maybe he was controlling, but he could learn to change that.

Feeling slightly better, Sarah slid off the bed and hurried to the door. She knew that her eyes were red and her hair dishevelled, but she hardly cared.

'Have you seen His Grace?' she asked the first person she saw.

'I believe he's in the dungeons, my lady. But he's in a terrible fury, so perhaps now isn't the best time...' but Sarah had already hurried off. It was her fault that he was upset, and she felt terrible to have angered him so. She would make it better.

Sarah shivered as she entered the dungeons, remembering her first night Underground. Then, she had been furious with Jareth, but she realized now that she had been at fault. She cringed, remembering the cruel things she had said to him upon awakening. How could she have said such things, after he had brought her to a comfortable, luxurious room and sat by her side until she woke up? He had been nothing but kind and, as usual, she had thrown it in his face.

'Where is the king?' she asked a passing guard, who gestured vaguely, staring at her hand. Sarah looked down and realized that she had left the room still clutching the pillow. Oh, well, she wasn't turning back now. She thanked the guard and hurried off.

It wasn't long before she heard the screams. Worried, she sped up, almost running down the dank passageways. Within a few moments she reached the source and stopped dead in her tracks, horror wrapping its icy fingers around her lungs: there stood Jareth, covered in blood, a red-hot iron hook in one hand, a screaming, begging man suspended in mid-air before him; and he was laughing. She swooned.

Although she made no sound, Jareth must have sense her presence because he turned around, shock splashing across his face. For a long moment they stared at each other.

'What are you doing?' Sarah whispered. 'What the fuck are you doing?' But it was clear: he was torturing someone. Torturing him terribly, for the sole purpose of causing him pain, and he was laughing at him.

This was Jareth. This was the Unseelie king. Sarah's head spun with revulsion, she felt herself beginning to fall and clutched at the wall to steady herself.

'Oh, God,' she whispered, tears of horror and betrayal spilling from her eyes. This was Jareth. Good at heart? How had she fooled herself into thinking that? She had only ever seen what he chose to let her see. _This_ was the real Jareth, the Goblin King who never showed himself to her.

'Sarah,' he said, desperation in his voice and eyes. Sarah took a step back, shaking her head. How could she ever look at him again? She would only ever see this blood-splattered monster, leering over her. 'Sarah, let me explain,' he begged, stretching a hand out to her...but the hand was dripping hot, dark blood.

'You monster,' she whispered, her voice cracking. Tripping over her own feet, she turned and ran from the cell, stumbling through the dark passageways.

'Sarah, come back!' Jareth cried, his voice anguished, but Sarah just continued on, her mind a dark void.

How could he torture someone like that? How could he laugh at it?

_Just as I can be so cruel..._ Hadn't he warned her, seven years ago, what he was really like?

Sarah was in a daze as she stumbled into the gardens. In her state, the first gardener she saw looked like Hoggle. But it wasn't him, he wasn't her friend, it was just another dwarf.

'Wait,' she called after him, her voice grating. '_Athair-luss._ I need _athair-luss_. Where does it grow?'

The gardener looked at her curiously, but led her through the winding paths, finally stopping before a snow-covered bush. Choking on her thanks, Sarah tore up a sprig and headed for the labyrinth. She knew the way through, now: Jareth had shown her. She just hoped that he didn't think to change it before she made it though.

Her luck held, though, as she stumbled along, through the hidden door, past the home of the worm who'd first spoken to her, all the way to the door Hoggle had led her to so many years earlier. The desperation combined with the familiar sites gave her a bizarre sense of déjà-vu, but she just staggered forward, out of the labyrinth, up the hill. This was it. She was escaping. Once again, she was leaving Jareth, leaving her dreams, and once again there was no time to stop and think things through. She just had to do what she knew was right.

Another sob heaved through her body, and as her fingers clenched she realized that she still held the pillow she had accidentally taken from the room. With trembling hands she tore off the pillow case and clutched it to her chest, casting the rest aside. Above her, the skies throbbed and darkened with thick purple clouds as a storm descended over the land.

And then, the figure from her nightmares, storming towards her up the hill. Most of the blood was gone, but enough was left to send shivers running up her spine, and his eyes burned. She had to go now, for if he caught her then he would never let her go, she could tell. She had to leave.

He was mere feet away and gaining steadily. With one last look around the dream which had turned into a nightmare, Sarah clutched the magic herb and closed her eyes, tearing herself from the Underground.

_

* * *

_

_Will he catch her? If not, will he track her down, or let her go? Where will she run? Will she be able to resist him if he finds her again? _

_I know Jareth was a bit of an asshole in this chapter, but I hope you can forgive him anyway. He isn't really such a bad person. For those of you who liked the fluff...well, I promise there will be more later on. _

_Listen, guys: my dream is to become a published author. I know that fanfiction is different from a novel...but just based on my writing, do you think I could make it? Where do I need to improve? _

_Thanks for reading! _


	14. Chapter 14

'_And in your shadow of a life_

_Your spirit shall become your tithe_

_The price that you must pay to me_

_And I will never set you free.'_

**Chapter 14**

Sarah ran through the snowy streets, lifting her long skirts and leaping over dirty, slushy puddles. After her long stay in Faerie the human world seemed unbearably harsh, and all of her senses were assaulted: bright electric lights flashed everywhere she looked, blinding her; the sound of traffic pounded into her scull; the constant flow of people, far thicker than it had been Underground, jostled her; the scent of the gutter and of tens of thousands of human beings living packed together invaded her nostrils; and she could taste the smoke and exhaust on her lips and tongue.

At every turn people stared at her, which wasn't all that surprising considering the fact that she looked like she'd just come from a medieval fair, but she paid them no heed. She had no way of knowing if Jareth—if the _Goblin King_—would come after her, but she wanted to get as far away from the entrance to his brugh as she could.

Far too quickly, though, Sarah's exhausted limbs began to fail her. She had tired herself out already today, and now she stumbled to a halt, cold seeping through the fabric of her dress to bite at her skin. It was colder Aboveground than it had been Underground, and she hadn't even brought a shawl when she'd left the castle. If she didn't get inside soon, she would freeze. But she had no money, and she had nowhere to go. All of her clothes and things had been at her and Adrian's apartment…Adrian…

Sarah straightened up, thinking. What was is that the Goblin King had said when she'd arrived? Something about how only her fiancé would be able to rescue her. Yes, that was it: her only chance was Adrian. Maybe she could convince him to help her.

But how would she feel seeing Adrian again? Over the last two months she had only ever thought about him to compare him unfavourably to Ja—to the Goblin King. But she _had _loved him, or at least a part of her had. Would those feelings be reignited? Or would she continue to resent him, as she had Underground?

With a sigh, Sarah started moving again; she had no choice but to try. Somehow, she would have to make him believe her, and once she was safe...well, then they would see about salvaging their shredded relationship.

'Excuse me,' Sarah said, entering a corner store. She almost curtsied before remembering that she was back in the 21st century. The kid behind the counter glanced at her, did a double-take, stared in wide-eyed confusion for a second, then shrugged.

'Hi. How can I help you?' Teenagers really could accept anything; he probably just thought floor-length corseted dress was a fashion statement.

'I'm in a bit of a predicament,' she explained. 'It's hard to explain, but I really need to get somewhere and I have no money and there's no one I can call.' She had considered calling Adrian or one of her friends to come and get her, but had decided against it. 'Could I have some bus fare, please?'

'Um...' confusion crossed the kid's face once again. 'Sorry, but I don't think I can help you.'

'Listen kid,' Sarah said, her hands springing to her hips. 'I was kidnapped on my wedding morning and I haven't been home in months, I've just had the shrunken remains of my heart shattered to pieces, I'm freezing cold and exhausted, I'm dressed like a character from a Disney movie and my sadistic ex-boyfriend could walk in that door any second. Last time I saw him he was covered in blood from torturing someone for absolutely no reason. If he catches me who knows what he'll do, and he'll probably kill you without a second thought. Now _give me a bus ticket_.'

'What the hell are you talking about?' the teenager said, starting to look a little nervous.

'Yeah, remember that next you think that your life sucks. Am I going to have to rob the cash, or are you going to help me out?'

'You need help, seriously,' the kid said, rummaging in his pocket for change. 'There, happy? Now get out of my shop.'

'Thanks,' Sarah replied, grabbing the money and hurrying out. She began to wonder why the Goblin King hadn't caught up with her yet, but didn't pause to question it. Instead, she got on the first bus she saw, riding it all the way until the metro. Going back underground, even use to the subway, made her nervous but she steeled herself and descended. Only after she'd entered the train did she remember that Faeries couldn't touch iron: she was actually safer here than she had been on the surface.

Nonetheless, Sarah was glad to get back into the sunlight, feeble though it was. It was only a short distance from the metro station to her apartment. She had walked it so many times that she no longer noticed where she was going, only that her feet were taking her home. Except it didn't feel like home anymore.

Finally, she turned the last corner, beginning to feel more relaxed. The Goblin King hadn't found her yet, and everything would be okay... Sarah stopped dead, paralyzed, in front of her old apartment building—or rather, the remains of her old apartment building: the whole structure had been reduced to nothing but a charred and blackened ruin. The building had burned to the ground.

'Oh, it's not _fair_!' Sarah cried aloud. Immediately, all of her panic and fear and horror returned, and she almost started to cry. It was just too cruel. What was she supposed to do now? Where could she go? How could she possibly find Adrian, who was supposedly the only person who could help her? The muscles in Sarah's back and shoulders twitched, her fingers clenching and unclenching against her will. In the renewed panic she couldn't think straight at all, and continued to stand staring at the building, a panicking mess. Blindly, her mind cast around for comfort.

And suddenly, unbidden, memories began to play in her mind. Jareth comforting her, again and again, there for her, even before they had become lovers. Jareth ignoring her, controlling her, yelling at her. Jareth sending the cleaners after her seven years earlier. Jareth struggling to make her life Underground perfect. Jareth dropping his weapons, willing to sacrifice himself and his kingdom to save her.

It had been some time since she'd thought about the assassination attempt. Originally she had been haunted by the idea that she had killed someone, but being with Jareth had always driven it from her mind; sometimes they talked about it, but even then he always made her feel better. And she had been with him constantly for so long that she had almost forgotten the incident. Now, though, the memory returned with a vengeance. Guilt and remorse tore through her, and she once again felt dried blood cracking on her hands and face. Shaking, Sarah lifted the pillow case, which she still held, and pressed it to her face. The feel and scent of it helped with the memories, but it also reminded her why she was here, in the human world again. Why she could never be with Jareth, the one person who had ever seemed to really understand her, who had complimented her perfectly, who could comfort her no matter what...who had actually seemed to want and need her.

'Excuse me, are you alright?'

Sarah started and looked up at the woman who had stopped beside her. She looked to be in her forties, with greying curly brown hair and tired blue eyes.

'I...' her voice cracked and she paused, clearing her throat. She couldn't just stand here: if the Goblin King did decide to chase her, he'd look here first. She had to find Adrian somehow, to see if there was anything he could do to help. If not, she would just have to keep running.

Sarah looked up at the woman, who was a little taller than her, and saw concern and kindness in her eyes. Unlike the boy in the store, this person might understand her situation a little better, and be willing to help. Just the fact that she was a woman was comforting.

'My name is Sarah,' she said. 'I just left my boyfriend, and I think he might be...well, chasing me. When I was with him he never let me go anywhere alone, and he's the one who made me dress like this.' Some of the confusion in the woman's eyes cleared at the explanation about the strange clothes, but the concern deepened.

'I'm Wendi,' the woman told her. 'Do you have anywhere to go? Do you have any money?'

'I have money in the bank, but I don't have my card or any identification. I have a...friend...who would help me, I think, and who used to live here, but...' Sarah trailed off, gesturing to the burned building.

'Don't you have any family you can stay with?' Sarah imagined the reception she would get if she suddenly showed up on her father's doorstep, and laughed bitterly. No, she wouldn't be welcome, and besides, she didn't want to put them in danger. The Goblin King had told her that the only way she could break the spell was if her fiancé rescued her, so that made him her only hope. Maybe one of their old friends could tell her where he lived.

'Do you have a cell phone I could borrow? The friend who lived here is really the only person I can go to.'

'Sure,' Wendi said, rummaging in her purse and passing over her phone. Even though it had been three months, Sarah had no trouble remembering her old friends' phone numbers. When had she stopped thinking about them? At some point the Goblin King had taken over, and although she had missed other company, especially female company, her friends faces rarely came to her mind anymore. He had been everything to her.

Refusing to dwell on it, Sarah quickly dialled not her best friends' number—she didn't want to get drawn into a long conversation, didn't want to have to explain—but the number of a male acquaintance of both hers and Adrian's. He was surprised to hear from her, but gave her Adrian's new address immediately when she asked. Sarah thanked him, hung up and handed Wendi back her cell phone.

'Okay, I know where to go. Thank you.' She was still frazzled, but less so. The shock of returning to the human world was beginning to fade. Now Sarah would remain calm for a few minutes at a time, but then a memory or something she saw would trigger the panic again, she would begin to glance incessantly over her shoulder and her head would start to spin again.

'Sarah,' Wendi said, 'maybe you should call the police, if you really think that your ex will come after you. Did he hurt you?' She asked the question in a low voice, looking worried, but Sarah shook her head.

'No, he would never hurt me. He just...I don't want to talk about it, but the police can't help. Thank you.'

'Alright, if you're sure. Here, let me lend you money for a cab.' Sarah began to protest, but then changed her mind. She needed to get to safety.

'Thanks,' she said, accepting the money.

It didn't take long to hail down a cab, but in the time it took her anxiety grew. In the taxi she wrung her hands together, clutching the _athair-luss_, trying to calm herself. It didn't look like Jareth was chasing her after all—he would certainly have caught her by now. But it didn't seem possible that he would just let her go, after the way he had controlled her Underground. Last time he had let, though… And even if he did catch her, she knew that he would never hurt her. It didn't seem entirely impossible that he would put string a chain from around her neck to his wrist, though.

And then she was at the new building, she was paying the cab driver and leaving the vehicle, standing once again on the sidewalk, this time on a completely unfamiliar street. It was time to face Adrian. She wished that she had thought about seeing him on the way, but there was no time to prepare now. She paused only to toss aside the _athair-luss_, which she still held, and to shove the pillow case into the sleeve of her dress, and then deliberately rang the bell. After a moment the buzzer sounded, and she pulled the door open and headed in. Through the foyer, up the stairs, down the hall...and finally, standing in front of the apartment.

This time she didn't pause. Every time she turned around she thought she saw goblins closing in around her, and somehow she sensed that her time was running out. Quickly, she rapped on the door, and a moment later is swung open, and Adrian stood before her.

'Sarah!' he gasped, his eyes widening in shock. With a nervous glance behind her she pushed past him inside, the enclosed space offering some form of comfort.

'Please, Adrian, you have to help me,' she said breathlessly.

'What you doing here? I don't understand,' Adrian said, his confusion and anger evident in each word. Sarah suddenly remembered that he had probably thought she had left him at the alter and run away without even offering an explanation or saying goodbye.

'I was kidnapped,' she said, realizing that they would have to discuss it, or at least some of it, right here before he would agree to help her. It also struck her that they should leave as quickly as possible, because of course the Goblin King would look for her here.

'_What?_' Adrian cried, pushing the door closed and stepping towards her. Sarah's panic was fading slightly, and she looked up at him for a moment, into his dark brown eyes.

'On our wedding day, I was getting ready and I suddenly blanked out. When I woke up...' Sarah trailed off, unsure how to continue, but there was no need.

'Oh, my god,' Adrian whispered, and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. 'Oh, Sarah,' he murmured. 'I worried that something like that had happened. I had the police search for you, but they could find nothing and everyone decided that you just... Are you alright?'

'I'm fine,' Sarah replied, pulling away; it didn't feel right to be embraced by Adrian. Not now, not so soon after she'd left the Goblin King. 'You have to help me, Adrian. He's going to come back for me, I know he will. You're the only one who can save me.'

'Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm so sorry, Sarah. I should have...I thought...I'm sorry.' He glanced away, then looked back at her, his eyes full of love and guilt. 'Why are you dressed like that?'

'This is the only kind of clothing he gave me.'

'Good God, what kind of a person was he? Listen, I have neighbours who should be about your size. You can get changed and we'll go down to the police station.'

'The police can't do anything,' Sarah answered. 'We have to leave, Adrian, this is the first place he'll look for me.'

'Who was he, Sarah? Who did this? Come sit down, tell me everything that happened. Are you sure you're alright? Did he hurt you?'

'No, I...I'm okay.' Sarah took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to think straight. 'But Adrian, please, let's hurry. If he finds us he'll kill you, I know he will.' Her voice broke on the words, but she wasn't sure what hurt more: the thought of Adrian dying, or the knowledge that Jareth was a cold-blooded murderer.

'Sarah, calm down. You're overreacting. He can't get to us here, and I'll never let him touch you again. Tell me what happened, and then we'll deal with it.'

He was so sensible. That was what she had loved about him, what had always managed to help her deal with her problems. The reasonable, level-headed statements calmed her, and she forced herself to breath. When she had thought that the labyrinth had just been a fantasy that had gotten out of control Adrian had helped her remain sane, and now that she knew that truth he could do the same.

'How much do you know about Celtic mythology?' she began shakily.

'What are you talking about?' Adrian asked, pulling her into the living room and onto the sofa, and Sarah realized that she was going about this the wrong way. She took another deep breath and started again.

'Adrian, do you trust me?'

'Of course,' he replied immediately. His tone asked how she could possibly doubt it, promised love and support, and in that moment she decided to trust him, too.

'If I tell you what happened, you'll believe me? You'll take me seriously?'

'I will, I promise. What's going on?'

'No matter how strange, how unbelievable, it sounds, you won't doubt me?'

'Yes, alright. Sarah, what...?

'This is important, Adrian,' she insisted. She needed his full attention. 'Even if what I tell you seems impossible, you must believe me. Your life and my freedom depend on it. I'm going to tell you everything, Adrian, everything that I've kept from you all this time. Do you swear you'll believe me, not matter what I say?'

'Yes, Sarah,' he answered with no hesitation. 'I love you.'

The words hit her like a blow. How long had it been since someone had said that to her? The Goblin King, although he had implied it, had never actually said the words. Why hadn't he? How could she have disregarded that?

'Thank you,' Sarah choked out. She couldn't cry now. Taking a deep breath, she started to talk. 'When I was fifteen years old...'

It took longer than she would have liked to tell the story. Never having told anyone of her adventure before, Sarah wasn't sure what to skip, and found herself yearning to tell the whole thing in detail. After explaining how she'd rescued Toby, though, she didn't stop, going straight on to describe the Samhain Rites and how she'd ended up Underground again. This time, though, to spare Adrian's feelings and her own embarrassment and guilt, she didn't tell him everything, skipping over the fact that she'd fallen in love with Jareth and saying only that he had tried to seduce her and treated her like an object, and how she'd finally managed to escape. Throughout her tale she watched Adrian nervously, but he maintained the same calm, attentive expression almost the whole time. He never once interrupted, not speaking a word until Sarah finally lapsed into silence.

'So that's it,' she finished at last, 'that's where I've been.'

'You've been in Faerie, with Jareth,' Adrian said, speaking at last, and to Sarah's relief his voice wasn't sceptical, but thoughtful.

'Yes.' He considered it all for a moment, and Sarah could practically hear things clicking into place in his head.

'And those dreams you used to have...they were of him, weren't they?'

'Exactly.' He was actually going to believe her. Sensible, level-headed Adrian loved her enough to take her at her word. _That is what love really is_, she though_, not moonlit nights and smooth lines_.

'Okay,' Adrian said, nodding, clearly coming to some sort of conclusion. 'I think I'm starting to understand. Don't worry, Sarah, I'll take care of you. I still love you, it doesn't matter. I'll do whatever it takes to make you well.'

'What? What do you mean?' Sarah asked, her brow furrowed.

'You need help, Sarah,' he explained, his eyes sad. 'I blame your parents entirely, they obviously drove you to this. It`s amazing that you managed to suppress it all these years on your own. Don't worry, though; I'll find someone who can help you.'

'No!' Sarah cried, finally realizing what he was saying. He thought she had a mental disorder. He thought everything had happened inside her own mind. 'Adrian, you promised to believe me! You swore!'

'Sarah, fairies don't exist. You know that.' His words were kind and understanding, but Sarah shook her head furiously.

'You promised me. What's your explanation, then, of where I've been all this time?'

'I don't know, Sarah, but I hope you'll tell me eventually,' he replied, and with his calm words Sarah's anger, and her hope, deflated.

'You won't believe me?' she asked quietly after a moment. She had to be certain before she did anything else. Adrian sighed tiredly.

'I believe that that's what you think happened, but even you must know deep down that it didn't really. The fact that you told me is a good sign, though—it shows that subconsciously you want help.'

Without looking at him, Sarah slid to her feet.

'I'm sorry, Adrian. I hope that he leaves you alone when he sees I'm not with you. I'll just be on my way, then.' She leaned down and kissed his cheek, regretting more than anything having dragged him into this. She would find a library or go online and find out all that she could about Celtic mythology, and hope that it was enough.

'Wait!' Adrian called, leaping to his feet. 'Sarah, don't go. I missed you so much...don't leave again. Please, let's just talk about this.'

'There's no point,' she snapped, her anger returning again in an instant. 'I'm not going to just wait around for him to come and get me. Because if he comes, Adrian...if he finds me, I'll go with him, I know I will.' Somehow, she did know it. Whether because of whatever magic bound her to him or because of her own feelings, she would let him take her away, even if she hated him every step of the way. 'You're the only person who can help me, but if you won't believe me then I'll just keep running, for the rest of my life. Good bye. I'm sorry.'

'Wait, Sarah...I love you. Please, don't do this. I'll do anything you say, I promise. I just want to help you,' he insisted desperately, following her as she returned to the door.

'Good bye, Adrian,' she said sadly, and left the apartment. It would have been nice to use the internet, but she couldn't put him in danger any longer. If the Goblin King decided to chase her he would certainly kill Adrian. He thought that he owned her, and had refused to share her even with Onagh, another woman who could be her friend.

'Sarah,' Adrian called, striding after her, 'talk to me, please, don't leave. We can sort this out, just trust me, I promise I'll help...'

But she paid him no heed as she hurried down the hall. Only when she reached the staircase did he finally cry, 'Alright!'

Sarah stopped.

'Alright, I'll believe you, Sarah. If you say that it's true, I'll believe you, no matter how impossible it seems.'

Sarah stood still, unmoving for a long moment. Then, with a cry of relief, she turned and flung herself into Adrian's arms. No words were necessary. They just held each other re-establishing their trust, for minutes on end.

'Thank you,' Sarah murmured into his chest. '_Thank you,_'

'Alright,' Adrian said, clearly trying to come to terms with everything that had happened. 'It's okay. I love you. Don't worry, we won't let him find us.' He pressed his lips to her hers, and Sarah opened her eyes and looked up at him.

'We have to get away from here,'

'We'll go to a hotel,' Adrian said, pulling away but keeping his hand wound around hers. 'No, better yet let's leave the city. We can't get a plane on such short notice, but we'll pack a few things and get on a train.'

***

Jareth sat hunched in his room, curling around himself, his face set against the very physical pain tearing through his chest. Dark shadows spread under eyes thick with anguish and his shoulders shook under the throbbing agony of the betrayal. And the cold: it seeped through him, radiating from the frigid void left by her abandonment.

There she was, her cruel, beloved, treacherous face, so close...and yet so far. Watching her seemed to at once ease the pain and intensify it. If only he could see her, talk to her, he could explain, make her understand. But for now his power was too depleted for him to go after her. He would, though, as soon as he was strong enough to brave the iron of the human city.

How she do this to him? She had said that she loved him. He would have done whatever she desired. He just wanted her to be happy. Why couldn't she see that? The pain, the loss, was so familiar, but still it cut him deeper in new and different places.

Finally, Jareth dragged himself to his feet, still hunched around the gaping chasm in his chest. All through the day and all through the night he had watched her, waiting for his power to return. He wasn't very strong, yet, but he was strong enough to find her. Strong enough to bring her back. He had watched her run from him, run to another man, throw herself into his arms. But she didn't love Adrian, he knew that, even she had come to see it. She loved _him_. She belonged with him. And he would get her back.

It took Jareth only minutes to get to the human world. He left Aelfric in charge, with instructions to contact him if any major decisions needed to be made, but he didn't expect to be gone long. Finding Sarah would take no time at all, and once he was with her he was certain he could explain things. As for Adrian...well, Jareth wished now that he had just killed the man when he had the chance. It wouldn't make a difference in the end, though.

Once he was Aboveground, Jareth took a deep breath, cringing as the scent of smoke and salt and iron penetrated his lungs, and quickly cast a glamour over himself. He didn't bother to make it very good—humans would still be perplexed if they saw him—but he appeared to be dressed in a regular human suit, his hair, still long, was far less pouffy and otherworldly angles of his face were softened. Then, he left the sidhe behind and entered the human city. He had been here before, most recently when he had come to punish Adrian, so he knew his way around the city relatively well. Finding a secluded spot where he wouldn't be observed, he conjured a crystal and scried Sarah.

And there she was again, her face hard and tight, her every muscle tense, her eyes red from holding back tears. She missed him, he could tell. And he missed her. Not for long, though. Softly, his voice a tender whisper, he sang,

'_Now I've heard there was a secret chord_

_That David played and it pleased the lord_

_But you don't really care for music, do you?_

_Well is goes like this: the fourth, the fifth,_

_The minor fall, and major lift,_

_The baffled king composing Hallelujah..._

_Hallelujah...'_

For a moment Jareth just stared at her face, her eyes, cherishing the sight of her. Then, with a sigh, he pulled the vision further away, to see where she was, what she was doing. There _he_ was, beside her. His eyes were tired, his face pinched, and his hand was on Sarah's arm. For a second, Jareth was consumed with anger, but then he controlled himself and focused on what they were doing. Sarah was fiddling with a string of flowers while Adrian looked on, and they both seemed to be on a boat. She was still running from him. Again.

'_Baby, I have been here before  
I know this room and I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you.  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march,  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah…_

_Hallelujah…'_

What tore at him the most was this time she hadn't left him for her brother, or even for herself. This time, it was her inherent goodness that had driven them apart. After all, she had come to find him, she had wanted to talk about it; and she had seen him heartlessly torturing a prisoner. He knew that he shouldn't have done it—he had even known at the time. He had just been so angry... He was in the wrong, though, at least by human terms, and had he known it would upset her so much he would not have done it. Still, she couldn't possibly prefer her uninteresting, unimaginative ex-boyfriend to him.

'_Well, maybe there is a God above,  
But all that I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.  
It's not a cry that you hear at night,  
And it is not somebody who has seen the light  
It's a cold and it is a broken Hallelujah…_

_Hallelujah...'_

Where was she? And how could her get her back? How could he have been so stupid as to lose her in the first place? If only she had talked it through with him. She must know that he would never have hurt her, that he loved her, that he'd have done anything for her. So why hadn't she just given him a chance to explain?

'_Well, there was a time when you'd let me know  
What's really going on below,_

_But now you never show that to me, do you?  
But remember when I moved in you,  
And the Holy Ghost was moving too,  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah…_

_Hallelujah…' _

And then, just as he moved to cast the magic to see where she was, three things happened: Sarah lifted her necklace of flowers and threw it around her neck, the boat pulled away from the riverbank, and the crystal in Jareth's hand went blank. Her picture had disappeared.

Jareth stared for a moment, his voice faltering. Frowning, he conjured another and tried to scry her, but nothing appeared within the crystal. And then he understood: finally, Sarah had bothered to do her research, and had found out how to protect herself. A necklace of daisies to prevent any enchantment, and running water, which magic could not cross.

Furious, he dashed the crystal to the pavement, what little magic he had regained shimmering darkly around him. Why? _WHY?_ Was she that desperate to escape him? Couldn't she even give him a chance to explain, didn't she owe him that, at least?

In a rage, Jareth stormed through the streets, ignoring the fearful glances he was getting from humans. He would find her. She couldn't keep him away. If he had to search every room of every house, he would find her.

For the next week Jareth scoured the countryside. He worked every spell he could think of that might reveal her and rested only when he ran out of magic, but it soon became clear that she had employed other methods of protection, too, for he could not find her. Finally, exhausted, his skin stung by the constant feel of iron in the air and his glamour far weaker than was safe, Jareth sank to the dewy ground in the early evening, his fingers caressing a crystal in which he had finally managed to scry a blurry image of his love, although it wasn't nearly strong enough to reveal her location.

'_Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.  
She tied you to a kitchen chair  
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah…_

_Hallelujah…'_

His throne was broken, his power was lost, she had tied him down, at least in spirit, and had mutilated him. Twice. Not again, though. He would not let her hurt him again. Whatever it took, he would do it.

Hadn't he already done enough, though? Hadn't he given her everything? He had made her a princess, he had cherished her very presence, treasured her every moment of every day, kept her safe, comforted her when she needed it, sacrificed himself for her. He had tried so hard. And this was what it came to. Again.

'_I did my best, it wasn't much  
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch  
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you.  
And even though it all went wrong  
I'll stand before the Lord of Song  
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah…_

_Hallelujah…'_

Jareth's voice faded to silence as he gazed forlornly into the crystal, his whole body aching from the pain of the shattered pieces of his heart.

'Well, now,' a smooth voice suddenly said behind him. 'I did not even think you noticed me. I was certainly not expecting a musical tribute.'

Jareth sighed. Indeed he hadn't noticed Finvarra approaching, and couldn't help wishing that he would go away.

'So you are the Lord of Song now, Finvarra?'

'I am the lord of many things, Jareth my friend. But you will not be the lord of anything for long if you continue to stay in the human world, completely out of reach, and ignore the goings-on Underground.'

Shifting, Jareth finally looked over at his king, who was standing looking at the sky, dressed all in black and green and looking every inch a Faerie King. He hadn't thought about his own kingdom in a week, and hadn't even considered the fact that constantly moving around might make it hard for Aelfric to contact him should there be a problem. Still...

'It had only been a week.'

'A week Aboveground,' Finvarra corrected. 'The flow of time has switched again, and it is passing more quickly in Faerie. It has been a month Underground, and I doubt Aoibhinn's temper has cooled since you defeated her; she will be only too eager to take advantage of your absence if you remain unreachable much longer.'

'You really should not favour me over her, Finvarra,' Jareth sighed. 'I intend to go back as soon as possible. But...' he glanced into the crystal again, his torn heart throbbing at the sight of her blurred face.

'Why can you not find her?' Finvarra asked, coming to sit at his side on the grass.

'She has used charms, protection, which even humans know will keep us away. I have broken many, but I do not know what there remains to break, and I cannot find her. I do not understand...I thought she was bound to me by the magic of Samhain.'

'She should be,' Finvarra replied, frowning. 'It should last seven Faerie years, unless her fiancé rescues her.'

'Well, she is with him now,' Jareth said, struggling to keep his voice even. 'Is that enough?'

'He has to kiss her,' Finvarra answered, and Jareth didn't answer, spending all of his energy on controlling himself at the thought of someone else touching his Sarah. Finvarra cocked his head and asked, 'What will you do to her when you do find her?'

Jareth looked at Finvarra in confusion. 'I will try to convince her to come back to me.' He thought that was quite obvious.

'Yes, yes, but what of her punishment? How will you make sure that she never leaves again?'

'Punishment? Finvarra, I will never hurt her.'

'I thought you intended to make her yours, your property.'

'I do. And I thought she _was_ mine,' Jareth sighed. 'But how can I punish her for leaving? It would only drive her away again.'

'Jareth, Jareth,' Finvarra sighed. 'Simple love and kindness will not keep her with you. Anyone could give her that. You have to make her earn your love. She rejected you; she must be punished.'

'Finvarra, I will do nothing to hurt her. Now are you going to help me find her, or will you do nothing but antagonise me?' he snapped. Finvarra's cruelty didn't often bother him—but the idea of it directed at Sarah was truly terrifying.

'Very well,' the high king replied, sounding annoyed. 'But first, tell me: do you love her?'

'Yes. Always. Forever.'

'Have you told her that?'

'No,' Jareth admitted. 'I have implied it, but I do not want her to be confident of her position in my heart; not until she is fully mine.'

'A wise decision. If you will not punish her, then when you get her back Onagh and I shall come to visit you; I believe my consort will be a good influence on your human pet.'

'Last time she spent time with Onagh she ended up despising you wholeheartedly.'

'And loving you, I do believe. It does not matter what she thinks of me, now does it? Besides, my wife can never leave me; no matter what I do, she will always yearn for my attention, always remain loyal. She does not even want to leave. So it should be, for Sarah. Do you intend to make her your queen?'

Jareth sighed. 'I did, twenty years ago. When she returned I decided I would not, but I had begun to change my mind. Now, though...I do not know.'

'Well, I suppose that you need to catch her before you can decide. Come along, now,' he said getting to his feet and casting a glamour around himself with a wave of his hand.

'We still do not know what charms or spells she has used,' Jareth pointed out, standing up and tossing the crystal aside.

'Your problem, Jareth,' Finvarra told him with a dangerous smile, 'is that you are thinking too much like a Faerie. This is the human world, and if you want to win then you need to think like them. And humans have ways of tracking each other down. They cannot travel by magic, so they always leave a trace, wherever they go. I have been chasing human girls for millennia, Jareth; this should not be a problem at all.'

***

Sarah kept her head down as she walked through the rain. It had been over a week since she had escaped from the Goblin King and they had not been bothered by any fae, which meant that either her protective charms were working or that he wasn't interested in chasing her. In spite of herself, Sarah couldn't help wincing in hurt when she thought of the latter.

'Hurry up, Sarah,' Adrian said, not unkindly. 'That's thunder I hear; we don't want to get sick.'

The one bad thing about the lack of faerie interference was that there had been no proof for Adrian that her story was true. He hadn't expressed any more doubts, but Sarah could understand, now that she had had a chance to calm down and think everything through properly, that he probably still harboured them.

They were staying in a hotel on an island in a river, after having read at an internet cafe that running water acted as protection against magic. Her daisy necklace had long since fallen apart, but they had taken many other precautions. If the Goblin King had decided to chase her, how long would it be before he gave up? Was she still bound to him? Nowhere online had she been able to find out how to break the Samhain magic, and they hadn't had time to go to a library.

Adrian held the door open for Sarah as she hurried into the tiny lobby of the hotel. For a moment they stood there, wiping the rain from their eyes in silence, while the storm picked up outside. Sarah couldn't help but remember the beautiful, perfect weather in Faerie. There were storms, or course, but with the howling wind and the nymphs dancing and little fairies twirling with the snowflakes they were more exciting than unpleasant; and they never got freezing rain in Faerie.

'Come on,' she finally said. 'Let's go dry off.' Adrian nodded, pushing back his short, wet hair, and they headed for the stairs. The room they had rented was small and simple, with two single beds and a tiny bathroom. In the last hotel they had stayed at, before coming to the island, they had tried sleeping in the same bed, but Sarah hadn't been able to handle it. Adrian had assumed that she'd been sexually assaulted and she didn't correct him, since it was simpler that way. She tried to keep things as simple as possible with him, but despite her best efforts they just grew more and more complicated with each passing day.

She didn't love Adrian. But the remnants of the things she had felt for him lingered because she'd never bothered to deal with them, and even if her love for him had never been as strong as her love for the Goblin King it had been there nevertheless, and had had no closure. Besides, he was kind and interesting and he cared about her in a very different way. She also knew that he was a much better person that the Goblin King.

'How long do you think the storm will last?' Adrian asked as they reached their floor, pulling out his wallet for the key card.

'Hopefully not long, but we should watch the weather channel tonight.'

'Ironic, isn't it, that now that we're on the run we watch more television than we ever did at home,' he said, inserting the key. He smiled, but it seemed a little forced. The fact that he was making an effort to hide his feelings for her sake, something few people had ever done, made her heart cry out in gratitude.

'Well,' she replied, smiling as he opened the door for her to enter, 'when we have the time we're both far too cultured and intellectual to waste—' Sarah stopped dead, he lungs constricting, her blood freezing in her veins. Before her, standing in the middle of the room, was the Goblin King.

* * *

_Yes, I know that this chapter wasn't spectacularly written. But I'm not going to get a chance to write for another few weeks (I start college soon, and my program is supposedly very work-intensive) so I wanted to post this now, while I have the chance. You probably won't hear from me again until September. _

_The song Jareth sings is Hallelujah, by Leonard Cohen, which is truly amazing and you should all listen to. _

_Thanks for all the reviews I got for my last chapter. And now I shall leave you to wonder what happens when Sarah, her realist ex-boyfriend, her controlling new boyfriend and his evil mentor are in a room together..._


	15. Chapter 15

_I'm finally back! In case anyone's forgotten what just happened, Sarah ran away from Jareth and Adrian was helping her evade him. Then Finvarra came to help him, though, and the last chapter ended with Sarah opening the door to their hotel room and seeing Jareth inside. _

_Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

'_I've given you your heart's desire_

_Your deepest wish you have acquired_

_I've granted you my empty heart_

_My love to you I did impart.'_

**Chapter 15**

It seemed like an eternity passed as they stared at each other, but it could only have been a few seconds because then Adrian was there, stepping past her into the room, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the scene.

In the end it was Finvarra, who was there too, although Sarah didn't notice him at first, who broke the silence.

'Well, is this not awkward,' he said, his grey eyes sparkling in amusement, and the spell was broken. The Goblin King stepped forward, his face expressionless.

'Sarah,' he said, his voice soft and tender. Adrian stepped between them.

'Are you the man who kidnapped her?' he asked, his whole demeanour protective, and the king turned his cold blue eyes to him. Sarah was suddenly overcome by the memory of him torturing the faerie in the dungeons, laughing, blood dripping over his face and body, as the prisoner screamed. He had had no reason to hurt the faerie—he had just been angry. _What would he do to Adrian? _

Sarah couldn't stand the thought of Adrian strung up like that, and swayed as she imagined the horrors that the Goblin King would inflict upon him. Steadying herself, without giving herself a chance to change her mind, she pushed Adrian aside to get between him and the faeries, but the ice and fury in the king's eyes did not diminish, and nor did the amusement in Finvarra's.

'Sarah,' the Goblin King said again, 'I just—'

'Get behind me,' Adrian said, taking her arm and pulling her back. Immediately, an invisible force tore between them, leaving her unharmed but lifting him and slamming him to the wall.

'No!' Sarah shouted, rushing towards him, but she found herself thrown backwards to sprawl across the bed.

'You dare to touch her?' the Goblin King hissed, stalking towards his victim.

'Let him down,' Sarah cried, pushing herself back up. 'Please, just let him down.' He turned slowly to face her, but his eyes were hard and blank. He flicked hi hand, and Adrian crashed to the floor.

'As you wish, my precious.'

Sarah leapt up and hurried to Adrian's side, but an invisible barrier stopped her from getting close.

'Oh, my God,' he rasped, looking up in fear and disbelief. 'It's true. It's all true.'

'Goblin king,' Sarah said, planting herself in front of Adrian. She had gotten him involved in this, and she wouldn't let him get hurt because of her mistake. 'What do you want from me? I will do whatever you say. Just don't hurt him.' A sudden vision flashed in her mind of the Goblin King, dripping with Adrian's blood, and her hands shook. 'What do you want?'

'What do I want?' he repeated. 'The only thing I have ever wanted, Sarah: for you to be happy. That is _all _I want, though you refuse to believe it.'

'I'll be happy if you leave me alone.'

'No, Sarah, you will not. You may think that now, but how can I possibly let you remain with this treacherous, lying filth?' he demanded, gesturing furiously to Adrian. 'How can I allow him to take advantage of you? How can I let you stay, knowing what he has planned for you?'

'What are you talking about?' she asked angrily, still shielding Adrian as he rose to his knees. 'Unlike you, Adrian would never do anything bad to me.'

'No, of course not,' the Goblin King replied. 'Darling Adrian deserves the benefit of doubt, does he not? Well, perhaps you should reconsider in whom you place your trust.' There was suddenly a crystal in his hand, which he tossed angrily towards her, and although she backed up, refusing to touch it, it slowed to a stop and hovered in the air before her face.

As always, the sight of the crystal captivated her, and she could not tear her eyes from it, even as a picture appeared inside...a picture of Adrian, talking to a woman behind a desk. A moment later she could hear their voices emanating from the magic ball. Horrified, Sarah watched and listened as Adrian explained to the woman, who was soon revealed to be a psychiatrist, how his fiancée was mentally unsound. He repeated both of the stories that she had told him, making them sound completely ridiculous, and explained how he had had to lie to her to prevent her from going off on her own. Finally, he described her plans to escape from the "fairies".

The doctor asked a few question, and then counselled Adrian to humour Sarah for a few days, to establish her trust in him, and then to trick her into going to see her.

'She's obviously a danger to herself,' the woman said. 'If she won't accept help, we may have to institutionalize her against her will'

The bubble burst.

For a moment Sarah could only stare at the place it had been, a hollow feeling spreading within her, but then she turned to look at Adrian. He was still on his knees on the floor, a pained expression in his dark eyes.

'Sarah, I—' he began, reaching a hand towards her, but she stumbled backwards. Some vague part of her mind registered the fact that she now stood directly between him and the Goblin King.

'You,' she started, but could think of no insult great enough to describe his crime.

'I'm sorry,' he begged.

'You lied to my face every day for over a week, and you plotted behind my back to have me locked up in a padded cell.' Her voice was low, rough, but the next three words tore themselves violently from her throat. 'I trusted you!' Breathing heavily, she took another half-step back, and the words that followed were a mere whisper. 'And I thought you trusted me.'

'Sarah,' said the Goblin King, but she whirled about before he could go on.

'And don't you start,' she snapped. 'I won't let you come near me. You've gotten what you wanted: I never want to talk to Adrian again. I'll be happy. Now, leave me alone.'

'Jareth, just take her and come,' Finvarra said suddenly. He had remained still and silent the whole time, and now Sarah's eyes strayed against her will to his enchanting grey ones. 'All of the iron in the air is getting to me. You can convince her later, when we are Underground.'

'I will not take her against her will,' the Goblin King replied, stepping beseechingly towards Sarah. 'Just let me explain—'

'No. I won't come with you, Goblin King; I won't be your little slave queen.' Finvarra sighed, and Sarah turned her glare to him. 'And you can just shut up, you little cheating man-whore,' she snapped, and he laughed.

'Come, Jareth, knock her unconscious if you must, but let us leave.'

'You go, Finvarra. We will follow.'

'I'm not following you anywhere.' Sarah turned and headed for the door, which had been left open, but it slammed before she could reach it.

'I tire of this,' Finvarra snapped. 'I have not spent the last two days tracking her down just to watch you let her go. She will be convinced in time. Now take her.'

'Sarah, talk to me,' the other king implored, holding out his hands.

'There's nothing to talk about.' She tugged vainly at the door. When it didn't budge she stepped away from it, keeping her back to them.

'Sarah—' Adrian began, and then slumped over, inert. She could see the pulse in his neck, though, so she did not panic, instead taking a step to the left. There was silence for a moment. Then she heard the Goblin King step forward.

'Precious—' he said as he moved, and Sarah grabbed the iron from the ironing board beside her and spun to face him.

'You know what this is made of? Steel. You know what's in steel. _Iron_. I swear to God, Goblin King, if you come near me—'

'Oh, Jareth,' stop her, this is ridiculous,' Finvarra laughed, cutting her off. 'She threatens you? You must really learn to keep her in line. Now knock her out and come.'

He was sounding very annoyed by now, and Sarah brandished the iron threateningly.

Once again, silence reigned. Finally Finvarra sighed, 'For Daghda's sake, if you cannot then I will do it.' He waved a hand, Jareth yelled, 'Do not hurt h—' and the world fell down.

Jareth rushed to Sarah, catching her before she could fall, and turned to glare at Finvarra.

'I said that she was not to be harmed!'

'Do not worry, she is only asleep. In the morning she will be relaxed and well-rested, and it will be easier to talk to her. Besides,' he added. 'She knows that you refused to do it, and protested when I did. This puts you in a good light.'

'I suppose,' Jareth sighed, lifting Sarah into his arms. She was like a doll against his chest, and he realized worriedly that she had lost a lot of weight in the nine days they'd been apart. 'She will be angered, though, to be taken against her will.'

'Oh, I think she can come to forgive you. Now get her back Underground. Oh, and my queen and I shall see you in a few days.'

Jareth nodded, gave a half-hearted bow and disappeared.

Back in Faerie, he banished Finvarra and Adrian from his mind and focused on Sarah. She did look relaxed, he had to admit. Cradling her in his arms, grateful just to be able to hold her again, he walked to the bedroom and laid her down. She was wearing the ridiculous men's clothing that human girls subjected themselves to, and although he couldn't imagine how she could possibly be comfortable it would feel almost perverse to undress her while she was unconscious and angry with him, so he just pulled off her shoes before covering her with the blankets. Then, with a sigh, he drew a chair up beside her and sank into it.

How had it come to this? He hadn't eaten of slept in days and his kingdom was a mess, but all he could think about was this girl. He had sworn, when she'd returned, that he would not be so vulnerable, that he would remain above his feelings and make her his. Now, though, he was starved and near exhausted, and everything he'd done over the last few weeks had been for her, to make her happy.

'How you turn my world, you precious thing,' Jareth whispered. Because she _was_ precious, the most precious thing in all the worlds, the only thing he couldn't afford to lose. He loved her. He _needed_ her. And she did turn his world, had been turning it since she was nothing more than a small child.

As he watched she shifted slightly in her sleep, a small smile parting her lips, and he was overwhelmed by a wave of tenderness. He couldn't lose her again. It would destroy him. So this time he would make sure to keep her.

'My precious angel,' he murmured, taking her hand in both of his. Softly, so as not to awaken her, he began to sing.

'_Alas, my love, you do me wrong,  
To cast me off discourteously.  
For I have loved you well and long,  
Delighting in your company...'_

***

It took a long time for Sarah to register where she was. All she knew at first was that she was warm and comfortable and rested. There was a certain familiarity about the place and it made her even more relaxed, and she was surrounded by the most beautiful, comforting scent. Relaxing and exciting at once, it smelled of trees in the spring and a lake in the winter, like spices and old books, like pleasant memories and future dreams and a wind from a faraway place. It smelled like Jareth.

And suddenly she remembered everything that had happened.

Sarah lay very still. She was back in Faerie, that much was clear. Someone was holding her hand, and even with her eyes closed she knew it was the Goblin King. But he had said he wouldn't take her against her will...

'Sarah?' How could he tell she had awakened? 'Are you all right? He said you would not be harmed, but I...' That was right, Finvarra had knocked her out, against the Goblin King's wishes.

'Sarah?' he repeated, one of his hands leaving hers to gently stroke her face. The way he said her name, each letter transformed by tenderness, made it sound, rather than common and plain, beautiful and exotic, and made her seem like something to be treasured. No one else—not her mother or father or fiancé—had ever said her name like that. Tears prickled from beneath her closed eyes and her fingers unconsciously squeezed his. How she had missed him.

Every moment they had been apart she had felt his absence, his betrayal, like a blade of ice in her heart, and had she not been so certain of her choice she knew it would have driven her mad. As it was, only by remembering the last time she'd seen him, storming up the hill all covered in blood and with fury in his eyes, had she managed to keep running, keep fighting.

Now that she was with him again, though, albeit unwillingly, all of her love came flooding back, mixed with relief and a deep sense of peace brought on by his mere presence. She didn't want to be apart from him. She _wanted_ to want to stop loving him, _wanted_ to want to leave, but nothing more than that. The panic and fear and anger that had driven her away originally had faded, and she couldn't imagine leaving now, without even giving him a chance to talk to her. Resisting him in the hotel had taken everything she'd had, and only her fear for Adrian, and her belief that he loved her and would protect her, had allowed her to do so. Now...why had she been angry? She loved Jareth. She belonged with him. Twice now she had left him, and both times had left her miserable. How she had missed him...

'Jareth,' she whispered, her voice breaking on the last syllable, her eyes still squeezed closed, and she knew that her voice said it all. She lifted a hand and pressed his to her face. 'Oh, Jareth.'

Sarah could feel his whole body relaxing with relief. He lifted her other hand to his lips and pressed kiss after kiss to her fingers.

'Sarah, oh my precious Sarah, how I missed you,' he whispered between kisses.

'And I you,' she breathed, finally opening her eyes to gaze into his, which were no longer cold and impassive as they had been in the hotel, but shining with adoration. How could she ever have left? But then again, how could she possibly have stayed?

'Do not leave me again,' Jareth practically begged, cutting through her warring thoughts. 'You will not, will you? You will stay with me.'

Sarah pressed her eyes closed again. If she said she wanted to leave would he let her?

'Jareth,' she began, 'I love you. I have loved you since I was fifteen years old. Leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever done. It tore me apart. But what else could I have done? I won't...I won't be your slave.'

'I do not want a slave, Sarah,' Jareth murmured. 'I just want you. I want you to love me and never leave me. I want to make you happy.'

'You do, Jareth. Some of the time. But you treated me like an object, and I'm not. I don't want to be with you every minute of every day. What I want is to come home to you, to know that you're waiting for me and that you know that I love you, to be able to think of you wherever I am and know that _you_ love _me_. I need freedom, though. Can you give me that?' Once again she let her eyes bat open, to meet Jareth's tortured gaze. For a long moment there was silence.

Then, 'Yes,' he whispered, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her from the pillows into his embrace. Enfolded in his arms, Sarah was overcome by an almost unbearable sense of peace, and she relaxed entirely for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. 'Yes, I can give you that. You say that you love me. If I do not hold onto you so strongly, if I let you be apart from me, do things on your own, then you will stay?'

'Yes, Jareth.' The words were such a relief to say. She wouldn't have to choose between her love and her freedom, she wouldn't have to flee from the one person who could make her happy. 'Thank you. I want you to know...I missed you every second I was away. I never stopped loving you...either time. And I never will.'

'I know,' he answered, lowering her gently back down to the bed but keeping her hand clasped between his. 'I have known for years...I have just been waiting for you to figure it out.' For a moment they sat in quietude, cherishing the moment. Jareth didn't know if he had ever been so happy. She had finally realized that she belonged with him, that she was only happy with him. She would be his forever, and they could love each other forever. Just seeing her, touching her hand, hearing her voice, filled him with peace and joy. And now they would never be apart—truly apart—again.

'I still want to see you every day,' he told her, hoping that she could agree to that, 'at least for a while. But I know that I have work to do, and other people to attend to, so during the day you are free to do whatever you please...although if you want to leave the castle and grounds I would like you to tell me, because it could be dangerous.'

'I want to see you every day, too,' Sarah admitted, smiling up at him, and his heart swelled. 'I do wonder, though...would you mind if I returned Aboveground for a few hours within a couple of days? Not to see Adrian,' she added hurriedly as his smile faltered. 'It's just...well, there are a lot of things that I miss about the human world. The clothes, first of all, and my books and music. And I'd like to be able to contact the friends I'm leaving behind, just to let them know that I'm alright. You can come with me, if you like.' She looked him straight in the eye as she spoke the last words, and he knew that she was telling him, promising him, that she wasn't going to run.

'All right,' he agreed; it didn't make him happy, but if it would make her stay then so be it. 'And,' he continued, determined to make an offering to show his good will, 'earlier you seemed interested in spending time with Queen Onagh. Well, she will be coming to stay with us here soon.'

'Thank you,' Sarah murmured. She rolled onto her side, as close to him as possible while still lying on the bed, and hugged his hands to her chest.

'We are all right, then? You are not angry?' He needed her to say it.

'No, I'm not mad. I'm happy, Jareth,' she told him, her eyes glowing, her smile radiant.

'As am I, Precious. How could I not be? I have you. Finally, Sarah, there is nothing to stand between us. You can truly be mine, now...forever.'

'Jareth?' she asked tentatively, 'Will you sing me a song, please?'

She need hardly have asked. Jareth was made of music the way humans were made of water; it flowed in his veins, nourished him, kept him living. Without it he would fade away and die. There was always a melody whispering inside of him, shifting and changing with each thought and each movement, skimming across his skin and blinking behind his eyes. All Jareth had to do was release it and everything he felt, his most sincere emotions and deepest dreams, would come pouring out. He was the song and the song was him, a perfect harmony.

Softly, he let the music pour out of him into the world. He didn't know what line would come next or how the tune would change, but it didn't matter. Gently, Jareth began to sing.

'_Look into my eyes - you will see  
What you mean to me  
Search your heart - search your soul  
And when you find me there you'll search no more..._

_Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for  
You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for  
You know it's true  
Everything I do - I do it for you...'_

_

* * *

_

_So there we have it. Not my best chapter, but hey, I've been busy. Luckily the next one is already written, it just needs to be proofread, because originally this one and the next were supposed to be just one chapter and I wrote both before deciding that this makes a better break. _

_Anyway, I hope you liked it, and sorry for the long delay, and sorry it's so short. _

_Oh, and the songs--The first one is Greensleeves, a traditional love song from the middle ages but only written down in the 16th century, if I'm not mistaken. The second Everything I Do, another beautiful love song. _

_Thanks for reading!  
_


	16. Chapter 16

_I'm sorry, I made a mistake when I published this. I said that Manannan Mac Lir was the High Seelie King, but the High King is actually named Bodb Dearg. Manannan was mentioned earlier and is friends with Jareth, and I'm not going to be any more specific here (for the sake of those who haven't read this yet) but the same thing happens to him that happens to Midir. _

_Sorry!  
_

* * *

"_My sweet embrace, my words so soft,_

_Lifted and held you aloft_

_I gave you all you asked of me_

_Including immortality."_

**Chapter 16**

Jareth crouched low to the ground, squinting in the weak light. The hoard of little creatures remained clustered together a few feet away and he shifted slightly, trying to stay hidden but still manage to watch them. He would have one chance. If they saw him before he could attack, then he would lose.

Carefully, Jareth lifted his head, scanning the shadows behind his enemies. He caught a flash of movement, and then saw his love's beautiful green eyes staring back at him. Good, she was in position. They would have to move quickly, before the creatures noticed them. He took a shallow breath, and then nodded to Sarah, signalling her to move. Then, with no hesitation, he launched himself from his hiding place towards the cluster of creatures....

And the goblins squealed, laughed, cried out in glee as they bounced across the room. For a moment Jareth watched as Sarah raced after them, laughing uproariously, and then he joined in the chase. Of course, they had already won—the game had been which team could surprise the other, the goblins versus Sarah and Jareth—but before long it had developed into something more like tag. Jareth waved a hand, raising the lighting in the throne room and vanishing the many random objects he had strewn across the floor to use as hiding places, and joined in wholehearted.

All good cheer had been restored because Sarah was back and the war had ended before it had really begun, and his goblin friends seemed to have forgotten his previous ill temper and were more than eager to dance and play with him and Sarah. Grinning as three of them tackled her, knocking her to the ground and tickling her as she laughed and tried to bat them away, he felt an overwhelming urge to give into the music within him.

'_Let's dance,_' he sang, and his goblins crowed in delight, leaping to their feet and immediately obeying the command.

'_Put on your red shoes and dance the blues_,' he continued, striding across the room and pulling Sarah to her feet. They each grabbed the hand of a goblin and spun around, Sarah laughing and Jareth singing. '_Let's sway, as the colour light up your face. Let's sway..._' The goblins rushed towards the two humans, who towered over them, and climbed easily up to hang off their shoulders and heads, swaying back and forth and all but knocking them over. '_Sway through the crowd to an empty space..._' As he sang he playfully shook off the goblins and pulled Sarah alone into his arms, dancing away to an empty spot on the floor. His goblin friends, who weren't the most tactful of their species, swarmed around them again, but had the good sense not to jump on them so he just ignored them. This time when he sang it was for Sarah alone:

'_If you say run, I'll run with you  
If you say hide, we'll hide  
Because my love for you  
Would break my heart in two  
If you should fall  
Into my arms  
And tremble like a flower...'_

The song broke off as he kissed her, lifting her up and spinning her across the room. He was so happy. Everything was perfect. His life, which had stretched on and on for so many countless centuries, finally seemed to have a point. Jareth had thought that he'd been in love with her before, but it was just a shadow compared to this. He hadn't know that it was possible to feel like this, but now that he did he didn't see how he could have lived without it; it was like never having seen the sky before. Suddenly the world seemed like such a perfect place, and his own life didn't feel like a waste anymore; it had a purpose now, it had meaning. He had Sarah.

Jareth's perfect moment was interrupted, though, because as soon as they broke apart the goblins attacked them.

'Let's play again!' one of them crowed, vanished before he could see who. Half sighing, half laughing, he turned back to Sarah.

'Would you like to play again, my pet? Or are you tired?'

Sarah broke his gaze, pulling herself from his arms. Jareth quickly smoothed out his frown, waiting for her response.

'Actually, I'd like to go for a walk,' she finally replied.

'All right,' he answered, 'although it is quite cold out. Go get a shawl and I will meet you—'

'No, that's okay,' Sarah cut him off. 'I'll just be a few minutes, you can stay here.'

'All right,' Jareth forced himself to say. Luckily he had lots of practice at faking smiles. He turned and walked to his throne as she exited the room. He could tolerate this. Before long he could insist that she stay with him, but just until then he could accept it.

Sarah didn't go outside; instead she went to the library, where she hid among the towering bookshelves and hoped that Jareth wouldn't search for her. Her skin still crawled with the darkness she had felt in the air when she'd rejected his offer to accompany her.

The morning had been so perfect. They had spent it together, talking and laughing and playing with Jareth's friends, and he had been the mischievous, playful, romantic Faerie she loved so much. But then he had had to say those words, the words that always sent her spinning back into memories of his cruelty: _my pet_.

She hated it when he called her that, when he laid claim to her. _My precious, my angel, my princess…_ He delighted in his pet names, and she used to like them, but now they made her cringe.

And there was something else, too. Jareth had taken her back above ground to pick up some clothes, books and her iPod—although she didn't know what she would do when she ran out of batteries—and had even let her contact her friends, although he hadn't been happy about it. And although she had been grateful, it had made Sarah realize that maybe Jareth wasn't enough to make her completely happy. She had begun to miss her friends again. Before, when she was still under the Samhain spell, she had come to terms with the fact that she would be apart from them for seven years, and that was okay. Now, though...she just didn't know what to think, of what to feel, because Jareth, who she loved, didn't seem willing to give up any part of her. And Sarah was no longer certain that she wanted to give him her everything.

_He still thinks that I belong to him_, she thought desolately. She could never let her guard down around him. She loved him...but, although she hated to admit it, she also feared him. Feared the control he had over her. Feared what he could do to her, or make her do, if he chose.

_Love...fear...caution..._ She was, Sarah realized, right back where she had started when she had first found herself in his court, all those months ago. The only different was that this time she recognised the fear and the love, and that both had grown. They hadn't talked about what she had seen in the dungeons before running away; she hadn't brought it up, because she didn't want to hear his explanation. Perhaps, had she thought of it when she'd first awaked, she could have found the strength to leave, if they couldn't sort it out, but the lingering remnants of Finvarra's enchantment had muddled her, and her predominant emotion had been her love for Jareth. And now that love burned in full force, despite her fear and mistrust, and Sarah knew that she wouldn't be able to suppress it enough to run.

_Fear me, love me, do as I say..._

_If you fear someone, don't trust them, then how can you love them?_ Sarah walked to the window, looking out at the snow and ice sparkling in the sun. _Things are already better than they were. He isn't controlling me anymore—or at least not as much—and it will just take him time to get used to it. He will respect me. _As for the torture—she had no answer for that. But as long as she didn't talk about it, didn't think about it, it didn't matter. She wanted to be with him anyway, and as long as she didn't brood on it she could live with it.

Something strange was happening, which interrupted Sarah's musing thoughts. She could see flecks on sand on the windowsill bouncing up and down, as though the stone was shaking slightly...

...and then, with a sound like grinding rock, the whole castle shuddered. Sarah cried out, losing her balance and falling to the floor, as thousands of books toppled from their shelves. Before she could wonder what was happening, before she could do anything but panic, they crashed down around her, upon her, and everything went black.

Jareth sprinted through the rumbling halls of his castle, struggling to continue casting enchantments as she ran. He didn't know what was happening; all he knew was that his kingdom was in danger, and that Sarah was gone. What should he do? Upon reaching the main hall he paused, uncertain. He didn't want to stop casting the protective enchantments even for the moment it would take to _travel_ magically, but if he was to move around on foot then he would have to choose between finding Sarah and heading to the catacombs to try and counter whatever magic was wreaking havoc on his castle. He would have to choose between his love and his kingdom.

For long, precious seconds Jareth hesitated, but finally he started to run again, still muttering spells under his breath, away from the door outside and towards the catacombs: even if he found Sarah she would still be in danger unless he could fight off the powers assaulting the castle.

Magic. Jareth didn't even know which spell to try, because he didn't know what he was up against, but he began by drawing a magic circle in the sand and stepping into it. First he would try to solidify the foundations of his city and castle, and then he would fight the assailant.

The work was gruelling. If it weren't for all of the work Jareth had done to prepare to call on Addanc's hammer he might not have been able to do it, but as it was the magic did not end up consuming him. Bit by bit, he fought the force back, and as he fought it he gained understanding about its nature: it was Seelie magic. An incredible force of Seelie magic was attacking him, so strongly that he couldn't properly discern what form it was taken. All he could do was defend, set up every set of defences he could think of, letting his own magic roll off of him in waves, pouring from his body, mind, heart and soul. He had to penetrate deep into the recesses of his memories and instinct, and into the dark corners of his mind that he had, even after all of his thousands of years, never explored. Finally, though, Jareth collapsed in the sand, the threat subdued—for the moment.

He couldn't rest, though, not yet. _Sarah_. Where was she? Was she safe? Jareth could hardly move, his clothes were drenched in sweat and his head felt about to split open from pain, but still he dragged himself to his feet, his muscles twitching as he moved.

Outside the stone door, which he'd sealed before beginning his magic, several of his friends and advisors waited. They didn't pester him with questions, to his great relief, but insisted that he rest.

'No,' he repeated again and again, staggering towards the gardens, cringing each time he saw the crumbling passageways and fallen stones. What she all right? Had she gotten to safety?

'Go through the city, castle and grounds, and bring anyone wounded to the hospital. Send teams to check the Labyrinth for casualties,' he commanded, not sure whom he was speaking to, but the group following him began to disperse.

'Jareth,' Kailen said softly, taking his arm to support him, 'you have over-exerted yourself. You need to rest. What if there is another attack? We cannot lose you. Jareth,' he added as Jareth tried to push him away. Holding his arm, Kailen stepped in front of him to stop him from going on. 'Jareth, we will find her.'

Jareth paused, looking his friend in the eye. He trusted Kailen as much as he trusted anyone. But still...

'I need to see her, Kailen, to make sure she is all right. She told me she would be in the gardens. It should not be hard to find her...' How had Kailen known that it was Sarah he sought, anyway? He hadn't told him.

And so they continued on. Kailen and the other knights who trailed after him kept trying to convince Jareth to rest, but he would not listen. They combed the gardens, which to Jareth's great relief had not been greatly affected by the attack, but she wasn't there. Once he'd looked everywhere he started again, and then again.

'She may have left the gardens,' Trevaylen suggested softly, but Jareth shook his head.

'The gardens are obviously safer than the castle, which was under threat of collapse, and she knows that the labyrinth is dangerous. She would have stayed.' Jareth knew that she might have left after the danger subsided, but felt certain that she would have come to find him. He had already sent someone to check their room, but she had not been there.

Finally, as Jareth began to despair, certain that either she was buried beneath a pile of rubble or had decided to take advantage of his distraction and run again, he heard someone calling his name.

'King Jareth,' one of his advisors said again, bowing as he approached. 'My liege...we found her.'

Relief flooded over him and he swayed, and would have fallen had it not been for Kailen's steadying hand on his arm, but then his fear and panic returned as he realized that the goblin hadn't told him what state they had found her in.

'Is she...all right?' The goblin hesitated a split second before responding, and in that moment Jareth's world teetered at the edge of destruction.

'She will be fine.'

'_Will_ be?'

'She was buried in rubble, but not too badly injured. She is unconscious now, in the royal hospital.'

Jareth turned and disappeared. Some surge of desperation provided him with the magic necessary, and a moment later he was at Sarah's side. She was lying in the bed, her beautiful face bruised and scratched, and what little of her body that wasn't hidden was in no better shape. Her wrist was broken and her right shoulder and hip were swollen, but she was alive. She was alive, and she would be all right. He collapsed into a chair.

'She has top priority, my liege,' the senior doctor assured him, hurrying over. 'There are many poultices and spells I can apply, so it should not be long before she is better. By the day after tomorrow she should be completely healed.'

Jareth nodded, his relief consuming him. He would not leave her side until she was better. This was his fault...he should never have let her go off alone. But why hadn't he found her in the gardens?

'Where was she found?' he asked faintly, reaching out to take her uninjured hand.

'In the library,' the doctor replied. 'She was actually quite lucky—she was buried in books and scrolls, so which acted as a cushion between her and the falling rubble.'

Jareth wasn't listening, though. The library. _The library_. She had lied to him. She had said that she wanted to take a walk in the gardens, and had instead gone to hide in the library. What she had really wanted hadn't been fresh air—she had just wanted to get away from him. And because of her lie he had spent hours worrying, searching for her in vain. Had he chosen to find her first, before going to the catacombs, his whole kingdom could have been destroyed. Had she not been so lucky, she could have died. He dropped her hand.

'I need to sleep,' he said abruptly. 'Do not let her leave until I come back for her, for any reason.' He got to his feet and walked off, too weak to _travel_, his relief at her survival quickly turning to rage.

***

Once again, Sarah awakened with her thoughts a muddled mess. What had happened? Where was she? Where was Jareth? For a moment she could think of nothing but his absence, his terrifying lack of presence, but slowly she began to remember what had happened. She had been hiding in the library...and then, with no warning, the world had begun to fall. She had been trapped, crushed, she hadn't been able to breath, smothered...

Sarah drew a harsh gasp of breath, claustrophobia crashing down upon her, and struggled to move. She couldn't. Terrified, she forced her eyes open...and found herself lying in a soft white bed, her shoulders, hips and ankles restrained.

Sighing with relief, she relaxed into the pillows. She was alive. She was hardly even in pain—her body ached and her muscles were sore, but that was all. But where was Jareth?

'Hey,' she called out. 'Hello?' Within seconds a tall goblin had appeared at her side.

'My lady, you are awake,' he said, smiling and reaching down to remove the restraints. 'Forgive this intrusion—you thrashed in your sleep, and we did not want you to hurt yourself.'

'No problem, it's fine,' Sarah answered. 'Are you a doctor?'

'Yes, my lady, and I am pleased to report that you are completely healed. You may be a bit sore, but that will fade within hours.'

'Thank you. How long has it been since...since whatever happened?'

'This is the morning of the second day after the attack.' The goblin was expertly taking her temperature, feeling the bone in the wrist and testing to make sure that the swelling in her bruises had diminished.

'Is the King okay? Where is he?'

'He had to work very difficult magic in order to ward off the attack, and is still weakened. He has come to see you, but mostly remained in his chambers, meeting with his advisors.'

'Okay, I'll go find him,' Sarah answered, relieved that he was alright, moving to slide to her feet, but the goblin doctor, who had been smiling helpfully, put a hand on her shoulder and forced her down.

'You are not to leave until he comes to collect you.'

'But I'm better now,' Sarah told him, rolling her eyes and pushing his hand away.

'I am afraid that my liege was very clear: you may not leave.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Sarah snapped. 'I can go wherever I like.'

'I have to insist, my lady. If you do not agree then I will be forced to restrain you again.'

'Jareth would kill you if you hurt me,' she said without thinking, but then cringed back against the bed as she realized that what she had said was completely true.

_It doesn't matter. I still want to be with him. I killed someone to protect him, too, after all_.

Before Sarah could move again, though, the goblin had nimbly replaced the restraints and she found herself unable to move.

And so she remained. Every hour or so she would try to persuade someone to let her up, or just try to annoy them all until they wanted to get rid of her, but nothing worked and eventually, lonely, yearning for Jareth and exhausted, she drifted back into troubled dreams.

The next time Sarah awakened, Jareth was there. She could sense him even while her eyes were still closed, and a sense of peace stole over her.

'Jareth,' she smiled, opening her eyes. 'What happened? Are you alright?'

'Oh, mostly,' he answered. But his voice was cold. 'We were attacked. It is quite impressive actually...the Seelie Courts have all banded together and they attacked all of the most powerful Unseelie Courts. Anu only knows how they will proceed, but their first attack was magical, to physically weaken our realms. It worked quite well, too—many of my people died or were injured, and a state of panic ensued. Had I not been able to hold the Seelie forces at bay with magic they may have swept in and wiped us out while chaos reigned. People were buried, everyone worried for the well-being or their friends and families. No one knew who was alive, who was injured and who was dead. And you,' he added, looking at her for the first time, '_were not where you told me you would be_.'

Sarah swallowed nervously as black fury flashed in his eyes.

'I—' she began, but he cut her off.

'You told me you were going for a walk in the gardens. You did not; you went to the library. You were buried for hours because I did not know where to look. You could have died. You could have caused the fall of my kingdom. _You lied to me_.'

'I didn't—' He clapped a gloved hand over her mouth, silencing her, his fingers digging into her jaw.

'From now on you may no longer roam around on your own. You will remain with me, or if that is impossible then I will bring you somewhere safe where you will await my return. For now, until I have this war sorted out, you will stay here. You may not leave this room. You may walk around in here if you like, but if you a nuisance then you will be confined to your bed. Have I made myself clear?'

'That's not fair!' Sarah cried, pushing his hand away. Her freedom had been the terms on which she agreed to stay with him. How could he take it away after just a few short days?

'Not fair?' Jareth repeated. 'Not fair? What is not fair is the situation you put me in. You ask me to trust you, to give you freedom. And when I do, you lie to me and endanger yourself. I want you to be safe, my Sarah. I _need_ you to be safe. Why is that so much to ask?'

'I didn't know something was going to happen,' Sarah protested weakly. 'I wouldn't have...'

'But you did. And you almost died.' He leaned forward and kissed her brow, and for just a moment the rage Sarah felt was replaced by a wave of tenderness and relief, but then he withdrew, got to his feet and disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a shower of sparkles that disappeared before they hit the ground.

The fact that everything could be perfect one moment and a disaster the next seemed to Jareth like a terrible injustice as he paced his council chamber. Why couldn't something go well, just for once? Why must the fates continue to dangle paradise in front of him, to give him a taste of it before snatching it away? Two days ago he had spent the morning believing happily that his kingdom was well and peaceful and that he would spend the rest of eternity with the girl he loved. And now that girl was furious with him and he was involved in the greatest war of his life—perhaps the greatest war of all time. Never had Jareth heard of the Seelie courts all banding together against the Unseelie Courts.

And it was Sarah's fault that the enemy had managed to deal them such a blow; if he hadn't spent the last week Aboveground searching for her he would certainly have noticed that something was happening, and would have been better prepared.

The door of his council chamber swung open.

'The council meeting is not for another—' Jareth began, angry at the interruption, but he stopped as Finvarra and Onagh stepped into the room. 'What are you doing here?'

'I did tell you we were coming for a visit, did I not?' Finvarra replied, raising his black eyebrows.

'That was before the war,' Jareth protested. 'Surely you have to remain in your kingdom—'

'Why should I let the actions of my enemies determine what I do and do not do?' Finvarra asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. 'Besides, I am in my kingdom—I am the High King, am I not? The whole Unseelie Court is my kingdom.'

'Since we are already here, though, we might as well attend your war council,' Onagh told him. She smiled at Jareth, but it didn't touch her eyes and he couldn't help feeling that she looked like an ice queen: regal and beautiful and hard and cold. 'We also need to tell you that—'

'Onagh, must you always put a damper on everything?' Finvarra cut her off, sighing. 'I have been dealing with war non-stop for two days, and I am sure Jareth has, too. Let us save more talk of it for later.'

'My lord Finvarra,' Onagh replied, her voice as cold and sharp of frost, 'we have new information that must be shared with King Jareth. I do not believe that it will be advisable to announce it before the whole council, so it would be best to tell him now, in private. If this topic really disagrees with you so much, then will you kindly step outside for a few minutes so that I can tell him myself?'

Finvarra let out an annoyed huff of breath. No, Jareth though, there was no doubt that Onagh was a better queen than her husband was king. He said nothing.

'Oh very well, tell him,' Finvarra agreed, looking quite annoyed at not having gotten his way. He leaned back in his chair, resting on the table and staring up at the ceiling. Jareth turned back to Onagh curiously.

'One of our own Unseelie monarchs has turned traitor,' the queen began, 'and has been helping the Seelie Courts for years. It is because of that that they managed to mount such an impressive attack.'

'Who was it? Who betrayed us?' Jareth asked, furious; an Unseelie monarch siding with the Seelie court? It was the worst form of treason.

'It was Aoibhinn,' Finvarra growled. 'She had been causing trouble, turning our kingdoms against one another, for years. She was supposed to weaken you, the most important king besides myself, just before the Seelie Court attacked.'

'I do not understand,' Jareth protested. 'Midir helped me against her, I am certain he did. But he is a Seelie king.'

'Yes, that is the other thing we have to tell you,' Onagh replied. 'The Seelie Courts have risen up and overthrown Bodb Dearg, their High King. He was forced to flee to the human world. This whole plan was formed behind his back, and no word of it was spoken to Midir or Manannan Mac Lir, who are in exile.'

'Where are they now?'

'I have not heard from Manannan, but Midir came to Knockma yesterday. Now he is Aboveground, searching for Bodb Dearg. He was not included because the other courts knew of his friendship with us.'

Jareth shook his head, incredulous. 'This is…an outrage,' he told them in disbelief. 'They truly wish to obliterate the Unseelie Court. Do they not understand? They cannot exist without us. We are too sides of the same coin, and if they destroy us they destroy themselves. Day cannot exist without night. Light cannot exist without dark.'

'And they will realize it in time. For now, though, just relax, Jareth. Everything is under control. All of our monarchs shall convene at Knockma within a few days for a war council, and all shall be well. Now stop worrying, stop pacing. Come, play chess with me.'

Playing chess with Finvarra was always particularly amusing because they both insisted on being black, which made it quite difficult to tell their pieces apart. But Jareth sighed.

'It is not just the war that is worrying me,' he confessed.

'Ah, yes,' Finvarra replied, getting to his feet and gesturing for them to follow him from the council chamber, which was apparently not the place he wanted to sit to talk. 'How is our little Sarah doing? And where is she, by the way? I thought that you would be keeping her with you.'

'_My_ little Sarah,' Jareth corrected, 'is in the hospital, because—'

'The hospital? She was injured?' Jareth couldn't tell if Finvarra sounded worried or amused.

'Not badly, but I am keeping her there anyway, as punishment.' He quickly explained how Sarah had lied to him as they walked towards his private chambers.

'So because of that you are keeping her prisoner in bed?' Onagh asked, her voice expressionless.

'Good idea,' Finvarra complimented him. 'Not cruel enough to drive her away, but still enough to make your point.'

'Well,' Onagh told them, the air around her turning cold, 'I will let you too delight in your vindictiveness alone. I am going to visit your prized slave.' She turned and strode away. Finvarra stared after her bemusedly.

'It is strange that she means to insult us, is it not?'

***

Sarah was sitting still on the bed, alternating between trying to control her tears and trying to control her anger. She could sort of understand that Jareth had been worried about her, which was why he was laying down such harsh rules; it still didn't seem fair, though.

'So do you still love him?' a musical voice suddenly asked, very close by although she had heard no one approach. Looking up, Sarah saw Queen Onagh standing nearby, staring out the window. Even though she didn't know the Faerie woman very well, it was a definite relief to have someone female about to talk to. As for the question, though…

'Yeah,' Sarah sighed. 'He just cares about me. I get that, I know he doesn't want me to get hurt. It's just irritating. And he's stressed because he is now, once again, at war.' She thought of the misgivings that had driven her to the library in the first place, but shook them off; she did love him, there was no question about it. He was just so controlling, so possessive.

It suddenly struck Sarah that she and Onagh were in opposite positions: her Faerie King paid her no attention, didn't want her, while Sarah's paid her too much, wanted her too much.

'Where are they now?' she asked, a treacherous part of her hoping that Jareth would come through the door; she wanted to see him, even though she was mad at him.

'Off playing chess and discussing how devious they are,' Onagh sighed, moving to sit by the bed. 'What are you going to do, Sarah? Let him trap you here? You are not his property.'

Sarah remained silent for a moment. 'Well,' she finally said, 'there isn't much I can do. He doesn't like upsetting me, so I'll just make sure he knows that this confinement does, and he'll loosen up.'

'You will not run again?'

'No,' Sarah told her softly. 'I don't think I could, Onagh. It was too hard. To do it again, a third time…well, it might drive me insane.' A part of her registered that fact that before her second flight she hadn't thought she'd ever be able to run again, but that she had fled when she'd seen what he was really like. Was it possible that the same thing could happen again? But she had accepted the fact that he had tortured people, even if she didn't like it. Could anything be worse than that?

'I ran because I saw a new side of him, a side that frightened me and repulsed me. I know who he is now, though, who he really is…and I love him anyway.'


	17. Chapter 17

_Sorry, I made up a mistake in the last chapter and mixed up a few names. Bodb Dearg was the Seelie High King who was overthrown. Midir and Manannan are friends with Jareth, and they were both exiled. _

_This chapter isn't that great—I've been too caught up with school work to spend much time writing. Hope you can enjoy it anyway. _

* * *

'_I am your every dream incarnate_

_I showered you with gold and garnet,_

_Silver, jewels, and adoration_

_Joys beyond your imagination.'_

**Chapter 17**

'I do not want you to be angry with me.'

Sarah ignored him, staring at the ceiling.

'Precious, just talk to me. You know that I just want you to be safe.'

She was lying down on the hospital bed, even though she wasn't restrained; she didn't look at him.

'Sarah, do not ignore me! I am trying to talk to you, to sort this out. I do not want us to fight.'

'Jareth,' Sarah finally snapped, still staring at the ceiling, 'why the Hell is _he_ here? This has nothing to do with him. I don't care if he's your best friend. If you want to talk, I'm not doing it here, in front of dozens of people, and I'm definitely not doing it from of him.' She heard Finvarra laugh, and clenched her fists in fury.

'Now, now, Sarah, do not be angry with me.'

'You knocked me unconscious!'

'And had I not done so, you may not have reconciled with Jareth.'

'Please, do not argue,' Jareth sighed. 'Do not be upset with Finvarra, Sarah. He has no moral code: he cannot help it. If it really bothers you so much then I will send him away.'

'I'm not talking here, in this…this prison. Let me leave. Let's go to our room, or go for a walk or whatever, and talk.'

'Sarah, these are dangerous times; I need to know that you are somewhere safe, with people who can protect you should something happen when I am not around. You have to stay here.'

'That's bullshit, Jareth, you just want to control me. I'm not talking to you while I'm trapped here, end of story. So just go away.'

'Sarah—'

'Jareth, leave her alone. She is just a woman being emotional. Come back later.'

Jareth sighed. Onagh, standing nearby, shifted angrily, but said nothing. Sarah dug her nails into her palms, hoping that Jareth would just send Finvarra away, but to her fury he got to his feet.

'I will come again when I can, Sarah. Think about what I have said.' He leaned down to kiss her, but she turned her face away so instead he just tenderly brushed his lips across her cheek, then straightened up and left with Finvarra. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to allow herself to cry. She did want to make peace...but he had to understand that he couldn't control her. She loved him, but he made her _so angry_.

Jareth strode rapidly through the halls. She was insufferable. She was driving him insane. He was trying to make peace, trying to come to an understanding, and she refused to even try to see his point of view. Everything he had done for months had been for her, but still she insisted on remaining the hard-headed human girl who had thwarted him so long ago.

'You are too forgiving, Jareth,' Finvarra admonished, sounding bored. 'You said you were going to make her yours; so stop making concessions, stop making apologies.

'Am I apologizing, Finvarra?' he snapped. 'Did I make a single concession? No. Now be quiet about her. She will be mine. She _is_ mine. But we have other things to worry about. In case you have forgotten, we are at war.' He flicked his fingers and his ornate silver pocket watch jumped from his pocket into his hand; it was mid-afternoon. 'I am going to search for Midir and Manannan.' He needed to do something to take his mind off of Sarah. 'Will you protect my kingdom in case of attack?'

'Would it not make more sense for me to go and you to stay?' Finvarra asked, raising his dark eyebrows quizzically.

'You have already spoken with Midir, and I would like to,' Jareth pointed out, and Finvarra sighed.

'Oh, very well, then, go. I will make sure no one hurts your goblins.'

'Thank you. It is unlikely that anything will happen,' he added, 'but just in case it should...get Sarah to safety.' He looked straight into Finvarra's cold grey eyes; he needed to make sure that the importance of the request was understood.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Jareth could read nothing in Finvarra's eyes, but he tried desperately to convey how vital it was that Sarah was safe. The silence reigned for a long time.

'You really do love her,' Finvarra finally said, his voice soft, his face blank. 'All this time I have thought that you just want to own her, but...'

'Yes, Finvarra, I love her,' Jareth answered quietly. 'With every fibre of my being, I love her.' He wanted to explain that ownership was a poor term to describe what he wanted, that when he said he wanted her to be his he meant he wanted her to love him the way he loved her, to be prepared to give her whole self to him the way he had unwittingly given himself to her. She would be his slave, yes, but only in that she would _want_ to obey him, to make him happy, as he wanted to make her happy. He didn't want to take her against her will: he wanted her to give herself to him. He wanted to be one with her, for their thoughts and desires to coincide.

Jareth couldn't find the words to explain this to Finvarra, though, and slowly realized that it couldn't be explained: it could only be felt first hand. But Finvarra was still gazing back at him, and as they watched each other Jareth suddenly thought, although it seemed impossible, that in the depths of his eyes he saw a spark of...could it be?...understanding.

'Finvarra,' Jareth whispered, incredulous, 'have you ever loved anyone? Really loved them, the way I love Sarah.' It didn't seem possible. Finvarra lived for himself alone, looked after his own desires with no consideration for anyone else's. He was the high king of the Unseelie Court, for Anu's sake. How could he feel love?

But if he didn't, then what was it that Jareth saw in his eyes?

'Love is dangerous, Jareth,' Finvarra replied, his gaze still locked on Jareth's, 'especially for the powerful. I have guarded myself against it since the dawn of time. Love corrupts us, make us weak, causes us to make wrong choices, and if our enemies know of it then it can destroy us.'

Jareth nodded slowly, still staring his king and friend in the eye. 'You have not answered my question,' he said softly. 'Have you ever...?' Finvarra broke his gaze.

'Yes,' he said shortly. 'Now are you going to look for Midir, or now?'

Dumbfounded, Jareth let the inconceivable revelation hang in the air between them for a moment longer before turning and disappearing with a shower of silver sparkles.

He couldn't afford to spend time brooding over Sarah and Finvarra, though, didn't have time to figure out what would happen with the former or to try to divine the latter's secret. What he needed to do was find Midir, Manannan and Bodb Deargh. As much as he appreciated the distraction, he also recognised that fact that the war was the most important thing. It seemed like his whole world, which had been perfect for a few short days, had collapsed. Sarah—his joy, his delight, his heart of gold—was angry with him, and at the same time Faerie itself was teetering at the brink of destruction. He had to do something about it.

Luckily, once he was Aboveground it wasn't very hard to sense the magic emanating from the three Faerie kings. Underground, where everything was made of magic, he wouldn't have been able to locate them without a powerful spell, but here their power was like a beacon and he had only close his eyes, dematerialize and let them unknowingly draw him to them.

When Jareth rematerialized he took a moment to look around, trying to get his bearings. He was standing in a forest of frozen pine trees, each one strewn with shimmering silver snow, and he decided that it was really quite pretty, for the human world. He didn't waste time admiring the scene, though, instead turning his attention to the grove of t4ees to h is left, which bore considerably less snow than the rest and from which melted ice dripped: it was almost as though spring had come early.

Jareth stepped through the snow towards the grove, feeling the air grow warmer and warmer the closer he got to it. He stepped among the trees, ducking to avoid the molten snow that dripped down from the branches, and pushed through to the other side. Here there was even less snow, and the thawing earth was showing through in great patches. He could see a clearing ahead, a small meadow, where there were buds on the trees and where snowdrops blossomed on the ground, and which seemed to glow with a golden light.

Magical shields had been set around the clearing, he could tell, so he approached as close as he could without challenging them and then called out, just loudly enough for the occupants of the meadow to hear, 'Jareth, King of the Goblin City, requests entry."

For a moment nothing happened, and then Midir appeared suddenly from between two trees. He looked tired and his green eyes were pinched with worry, but his golden hair shone in the warm sunlight and a smile split across his face when he beheld Jareth.

'Entry? Entry to what, my friend?' he asked, laughing sardonically, waving a hand to allow Jareth passage through the woven spells. 'We no longer have any hall to deny you.'

There were four other faeries in the clearing. Bodb Dearg, with his long, straight red hair and hazel eyes, sat in a throne woven from the branches of an elm tree, looking majestic and angry and tired; Manannan, his wavy brown hair falling all the way down his back, stood a little ways off, and his sea-blue eyes flashed in pleasure when he saw Jareth; and a woman with reeds braided into her long yellow hair and eyes as blue as Manannan's leaned against a tree nearby, and Jareth recognised Mananna's wife, Fand. The fourth person, a beautiful blond woman who looked as slight and delicate as a butterfly, leapt to her feet when the two of them entered the clearing and danced to Midir's side, taking his hand and brushing a kiss across his cheek, and Jareth could feel the air thicken with love; Midir was one of his best friends, but when he was with Etain the two of them were all but insufferable. It was even worse, now, because he knew that Sarah was angry with him. His heart clenched in pain as he remembered the last time she had looked at him, her cruel eyes filled with anger. The bright meadow seemed to darken at the memory.

'Jareth,' Manannan greeted him, and Jareth stepped forward to clasp his hand, welcoming the excuse to distance himself from the devotion emanating from Midir and Etain.

'King Jareth,' Bodb Dearg said from his throne, looking less than pleased. 'I mean no offense...but what are you doing here?'

'None taken,' Jareth replied. He had never been very fond of the Seelie high king, but knew that the dire situation called for a certain degree of civility. Besides, if Midir and Manannan, who despised Bodb, could handle it then so could he. 'The Seelie Alliance has attacked me, and I want to find out more about them. Mostly though, I wanted to find out if you two were okay,' he added, turning back to Midir and Manannan.

'Apart from our pride, I think that we are all right,' Midir replied with a sigh, and Manannan nodded.

'Why were you two banished?' Jareth asked. 'You have both protested Bodb Dearg's rule ever since it was granted.' Off to the side, Bodb Dearg himself glowered, but said nothing; they all knew that it was true.

'Even so, they know that I would never have supported them,' Midir replied. 'To attempt to obliterate the Unseelie Court... I may not approve of your ways, but I know that the two Courts are essential parts of one another; to destroy one would be to destroy both, and destroy all of Faerie.'

'What are you going to do, Jareth?' Manannan asked softly, his voice as deep as the sea.

'I do not know yet. What exactly happened? All I know is that King Alberich raised the Seelie kings, drove Bodb out of Femen and took power, and warned you to flee for your lives.'

'There are not many more details than that,' Midir told him. He waved a hand, causing all the remaining snow on the ground before him to evaporate, and gestured for them all to sit. Jareth sank to the ground next to Manannan, Fand approached and took her seat at his side and Midir settled himself amid the grass with Etain in his lap. After a moment's hesitation Bodb pushed himself off his living throne and joined them on the ground, and the five Seelie monarchs began to describe to Jareth what had befallen each of them. Bodb had seen Seelie armies approaching but it hadn't crossed his mind that they had come to attack him, their king. At the last moment he had realized what was happening and sent his remaining loyal soldiers to fight, but they had been forced to retreat and Bodb himself had had no choice but to flee, or be killed.

Manannan and Midir's stories were almost identical. They had both heard of Bodb's defeat and had prepared to make a bid for the throne, but before the game of politics could begin enormous armies had marched towards each of their kingdoms and messengers had been sent to tell them to leave Seelie territory if they valued their lives.

'It still makes no sense to me,' Jareth told them. 'When Bodb took the throne you two protested the most. They should have at least sought an alliance.'

'They do not want our help, Jareth; they want us out of the picture entirely.'

'Midir and Manannan would be seen as a threat,' Bodb explained. 'They have a greater right to the throne than Alberich. And besides, everyone knows of their friendship with Finvarra; the other kings would have known that they would never participate in obliterating the Unseelie Court.'

'Jareth,' Fand asked, her voice like water running through reeds, 'is the Unseelie Court strong enough to hold them off? Will Finvarra take it seriously?'

'We are strong,' Jareth replied, 'but we are not united, not the way the Seelie Court is. In sooth, I know not what will happen.'

'You know that we are happy to work with you, Jareth,' Manannan told him. Jareth shifted uncomfortably and glanced over at Bodb Dearg, and a silent understand passed between them.

'We cannot do that, Manannan,' Jareth sighed. 'I am your friend, but when it comes to war the Seelie and Unseelie Courts cannot work together. At least not openly. If you were to help us, if we were to help you, if you were to come and stay in my castle and work with us…you would give up your status as Seelie Fae, and you would never be able to get it back.'

'Well, we can still talk,' Midir told him. 'After all, the five of us are all solitary fae, now, are we not?'

'Yes.' Jareth looked back over at Bodb Dearg and said, 'We cannot reinstate you as High King.' He almost wished that they could. His dislike for Bodb came mostly from the fact that he was High King of Jareth's sworn enemies, and that his reign was disputed by two of Jareth's best friends; in truth, he knew that Bodb was a good King, and his rule of the Seelie Court balanced perfectly with Finvarra's rule of the Unseelie Court.

'You will not have to,' Bodb Dearg replied. 'I am not powerless; I will have my crown back within days. And Jareth,' he added quietly, 'it would probably be all right for Manannan and Midir to stay in your castle, as long as they do not attend the war councils. I am sure that Fand and Etain would like a more comfortable place to sleep.'

'As long as I am with Midir I do not care where I am,' Etain told them, reaching up to kiss his cheek, and when Midir smiled adoringly down at her everyone else turned away, embarrassed and slightly nauseated. Jareth tried to ignore the hollow feeling within him, the chasm that opened in his heart when he was away from Sarah. Manannan cleared it throat.

'We were all Seelie Kings and Queens, Bodb. We may not be the best of friends…but we are in this together. Perhaps we will go and visit Jareth in a few days, but if we do it will only be for a few hours.' Jareth wondered at how the calamitous situation could bring even Midir and Manannan and Bodb Dearg together, when there had previously been a well-established rivalry and dislike between them. Their loyalty had only developed now that they had all lost everything.

There seemed to be little more to say. Jareth clasped hands with his friends and with Bodb, brushed his lips across Etain and Fand's fingers, gave them all one last sorrowful glance and disappeared. How could the world have fallen apart so completely in the space of a couple of days? Kings reduced to beggars, Night Courts, turning to the light, magic on the brink of destruction…it hardly seemed possible.

When Jareth materialized in his throne room the first thing he noticed was that his goblin friends were all covering in the corner.

_Finvarra_, he though in exasperation, glancing around. The high king was sprawled in Jareth's throne, and he looked like he as in a foul mood. Onagh stood beside him, holding a mirror into which they both gazed.

'Finvarra?' Jareth asked tentatively. 'Is everything all right?' He remembered that time had begun to pass more quickly Aboveground again. He had only been in the human world for a couple of hours, but Anu only knew what could have happened in Faerie in that time.

'Yes, yes, all is well,' Finvarra replied. 'And it will stay that way for approximately another...thirteen hours.'

'What are you talking about?' demanded Jareth, striding forward and taking the mirror from Onagh. On its shining surface an enormous army was reflected.

'The Seelie Court must somehow be tracking you magically,' Onagh told him desolately. 'As soon as you left Faerie they began to mass on your borders. They already had forces nearby, so it was not a matter of great difficulty.'

'Have you mustered my army?' Jareth asked, changing the perspective in the mirror and glaring down at the Seelie knights.

'Of course.' Finvarra took the mirror and changed the picture entirely to show a bird's-eye view of Jareth's kingdom. 'I left factions at these forts to protect the border,' he said, flicking his fingers and causing several areas to light up, 'and have recalled the rest of your soldiers. They are gathering here' Finvarra pointed to a place on the map 'and should be ready to ride within six hours. They can engage the Seelie forces about seven hours after that.'

'Can I defeat them?' Jareth asked bluntly, looking up from the mirror. Finvarra hesitated.

'Yes,' he finally replied. 'Or at least, you can hold off an invasion. You cannot desecrate their army, but I believe you can push them back. I doubt they will persist in this attack—more likely they will engage and then quickly retreat. The point of this battle will be to let us, the Unseelie Court, know that they are serious.'

Jareth looked away, his face tightening with anger and worry.

'Did you find Midir and Manannan?' Onagh asked him quietly, and he dejectedly told them of his meeting with them. When his tale was finished they were silent for a few moments.

'All right,' Jareth finally said, 'I had better go and find my armour, and go to meet my army.' Finvarra nodded.

'I did not bring my armour with me from Knockma, but I sent my valet back to retrieve it.'

'You really must not ride with us,' Jareth protested. 'You are the High King. You must return to Knockma.'

'You are right,' Finvarra replied, 'I should do that. But we both know I am not going to.' He grinned at Jareth, war lust flashing in his eyes.

'It would actually be more useful to have someone here supporting us magically...'

'I will be doing that,' Onagh assured him, and he sighed, defeated. There wasn't anyone he would rather have at his side in battle than Finvarra...but they would be fighting against terrible odds. He didn't want his friend to die, and he also knew that the High King was indispensable. But there was never any point in arguing with Finvarra after his mind was made up.

'Very well. I will see you in a few minutes.' There was so much to do before the battle. He had to go over the battle plan, review the defences around his castle, make sure that the rest of his kingdom was protected, set spells upon his armour and weapons, contact his allies and generals, and...Jareth glanced unconsciously towards the hospital.

'Do not go,' Finvarra said.

'I beg your pardon?'

'Do not go and see her before we leave.'

'Why not?' Jareth asked, glowering. Were his thoughts that easy to read?

'Just trust me, Jareth,' Finvarra told him, smiling deviously. Jareth glanced away. He did want to say goodbye to her. But he remembered the despair he had felt last time they had spoken. Would he be able to lead his army if she yelled at him again, looked at him with those cruel eyes? It seemed that his love for her was causing him nothing but pain. The war was already tearing his world apart...could he handle having Sarah destroy it even more?

'Very well,' Jareth replied at last. He would trust Finvarra on this. 'I will see you soon, then.'

"Soon" turned out to be two and a half hours later, which was how long it took Jareth to get ready to leave for battle. He met Finvarra in the throne room and they proceeded to the stables, both wearing their shining black armour, with Onagh.

'We will communicate with you by magic,' Jareth told her as he mounted Cereus, and she nodded, holding Finvarra's dark horse still as he mounted. There was a moment of silence as the two kings sat still on their steeds and Onagh stared at the ground, but at last she looked up at Finvarra.

'My kingdom is in your hands, my lady,' he told her softly.

'I will keep it safe until your return, my lord,' she replied. They held each other's gaze for a moment and something unspoken and incomprehensible to Jareth passed between them, and then she stepped back and Finvarra spurred his horse forward, out of the stable and into the sky.

'I hate saying goodbye to her,' he said softly when Jareth caught up with him. He was leaning over his horse, staring moodily at the horizon. 'I never know what to say.'

'Do you love her?' Jareth asked quietly, remembering their earlier conversation, and Finvarra looked over at him in surprise.

'Love her?' He deliberated for a moment. 'I have never really thought about it.' And he spurred his horse on into the night.

***

Sarah lay dejectedly in bed, wishing that she hadn't sent Jareth away. It had been four days since she had seen him, and although she was still furious with him she worried about what horrid ideas that insufferable high king was planting in his mind. She _did_ want to make up—she still loved him—and she was sure that if they could just talk he would understand her point of view.

And besides that...she missed him.

'Excuse me, my lady,' someone said, and Sarah glanced over to see the doctor at her side. 'Forgive me, but we have to move you.'

'What do you mean?' she asked, pushing herself into a sitting position.

'The casualties will begin arriving today, and this bed needs to be given to someone who is actually injured. Until now you have been given an ideal location, but...'

'What do you mean, the casualties?' she asked, getting to her feet, perplexed.

'From the war.'

'I didn't realize there had been a battle,' Sarah sighed as she followed him. That probably explained why Jareth hadn't returned to see her—he must be very busy. The doctor led her to another bed, much farther back. 'Could you please ask the king to come and see me, whenever he has a chance?' she requested.

'I have no more contact with him than you do,' the doctor replied. 'He will probably visit you when he gets back from the front.' He turned and walked away as Sarah nodded. A moment later, though, the meaning of his words sank in.

'Wait!' she cried, springing after him, her every muscle suddenly tense. 'What do you mean, you can't contact him? What do you mean, when he gets back from the front? Where—' she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself, and asked, 'Where is King Jareth?'

'Probably on the battlefield with his army. Now I really must go, I have work to do.'

But Sarah wasn't listening. She stood still in the middle of the room, horror and panic immobilizing her. The battlefield. Jareth was at war.

'Oh my god,' Sarah whispered, bringing a trembling hand to her mouth. She felt hollow. Her eyes stung with tears that wouldn't fall and her head spun with fear and panic. Jareth was off fighting a far stronger force, and he must have had very little warning. He could die.

Sarah wasn't certain what happened next. Somehow, she was back at her cot, sitting staring at the floor. Jareth could die. She remembered how terrified she had been when he had summoned Addanc's Rage, and it was nothing compared to this. At least then he had spent weeks preparing and she had known pretty well what he was up against. This time, though...she hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

_Just go away_. Those were the last words she had spoken to him. She hadn't told him she loved him, hadn't begged him to return to her. She had told him to go away, and now he might be torn from her forever.

And finally Sarah understood why Jareth had locked her inside, had refused to let her from his side, had been so furious when she had put herself in danger. How could she fault him for wanting to keep her safe?

Guilt and regret gnawed at Sarah as the long hours wore on. She remembered all of the cruel things she had said to him, remembered how she had lied and avoided him, how she had run away, remembered all the times she had doubted. She didn't even deserve Jareth's love. What kind of person was she?

_Just go away_. Sarah insides twisted in pain. Could he forgive her? If he came back..._when_ he came back...would he accept her apology?

_One more chance,_ she told herself resolutely, curled on her side in bed, as that day, and the next, grated slowly by, _if he gives me one more chance I'll prove that I can love him the way he deserves to be loved_.

***

Jareth breathed heavily, sweat streaking his face, as he swung his heavy longsword again and again, thrusting, parrying, feinting, again and again. His opponent's face was hidden beneath a blood-stained helmet, so Jareth didn't know if he knew him. They engaged, disengage, engaged again, until finally the Seelie knight faltered and Jareth was able to slide his blade between his armour.

He was on foot on the battlefield, because Cereus had been injured and Jareth was unwilling to ride another horse. All about him the battle swirled and dead and wounded bodies littered the ground. The battle had been going on for five days and he was exhausted, but the thrill of the fight and the blood lust had his heart pounding in his chest. The sky was a purple menace, a product of the magic worked by both sides.

There was a cry and a clash of metal behind him and Jareth spun about to see a Seelie knight falling to the ground.

'Stop staring at the sky and pay attention to the battle!' Finvarra yelled at him...but he was laughing. He had jumped from his horse in order to kill the knight coming up behind Jareth and his steed had disappeared in the fray, but he didn't seem to mind.

'Thank you,' Jareth said as, side by side, they leapt back into the chaos. Somehow there were no other Unseelie knights nearby, so on every side unfriendly faces and unfriendly swords assailed them.

'Let us hope there is never a need to repay the favour,' Finvarra told him as he sparred with two enemies at once. Jareth swung his sword and cleft his opponent's arm from his shoulder, but there was no time to pause and he turned quickly to engage another.

'I thought that you liked danger,' he asked, and glanced over to see Finvarra decapitate both of his enemies with one stroke. The high king moved like a cat, twisting with a lethal grace among his opponents, each strike deadly.

'I do,' he replied, 'but I like being able to handle it myself.' They were completely surrounded. Back to back, Jareth and Finvarra fought their way through their enemies. They had neared the edge of a cliff, and thunder was crackling in the sky.

Jareth lifted his sword to block an attack, and time seemed to slow. In that moment it seemed that the whole world had fallen apart and was spinning around him in pieces. This was insanity. What the Seelie Court was attempting was insanity, there was no other word for it. What would befall them? Would Faerie be completely annihilated? Looking around at the swarming battle Jareth could think of no other possible outcome. Either the Seelie Court would destroy the Unseelie Court or vice versa, but either way their world would be destroyed.

The moment passed, and Jareth killed his opponent and hurried to attack another; they were now fighting at the very brink of the cliff, and he could see the dark waters frothing below.

'This is madness!' he called, glancing around at the battling armies.

'Madness?' Finvarra repeated with an ecstatic laugh. 'This is Faerie!' And he leapt into the air and kicked his enemy off the edge of the cliff.

How much longer the battle lasted Jareth couldn't say. All he knew was that, at last, the Seelie army began to retreat. For a few hours they chased them, but once they were out of Jareth's kingdom he called a halt.

Most of the severely wounded had already been sent away from the front. Jareth had his army set up camp by the border, but as the exhilaration of battle faded he felt a deep exhaustion settling over him. Leaving his general in charge, he waste no time in mounting Cereus, whose wound had been magically, and riding back to the Goblin City.

He should have stayed with his army. But he felt no motivation. When he tried to remember what he was fighting for, nothing came to mind. It seemed like the world had already ended, had already fallen to pieced. What was the point of fighting? He just wanted to go to sleep, to forget about the war. And most of all to forget the look in Sarah's eyes last time he had seen her.

Finvarra, who had decided to return with him, seemed invigorated rather than tired, but they didn't talk as they rode through the sky. Only after they had arrived did Jareth speak.

'There is much to do,' he said, 'but I must rest.' Finvarra nodded.

'We can discuss tactics tomorrow.' He paused, and then looked Jareth in the eye and smiled softly. 'It was a pleasure to fight at your side, my friend,' he said quietly.

'And an honour to fight at yours,' Jareth replied. They had fought in many wars together before, but none as important or as uncertain as this. For a moment they just stood in silence, the spirit of friendship and camaraderie welling unspoken between them, and then Jareth smiled, turned, and walked away.

He did need to rest; but there was something he needed to do first. Even if he wanted to forget her cruelty, he needed to see her.

Everywhere he went people hailed him, asked for news of the battle, inquired after his health, but he ignored them. It took him only minutes to reach the hospital, and after only a moment's hesitation he opened the door and stepped inside...

...and Sarah threw herself into his arms.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, pressing herself to him, 'I'm so sorry.' And the harsh world melted, softened, as he pulled her to him, ran his fingers through her hair, kissed her brow. The feeling of her in his arms was heaven. The war no longer seemed so dark and ominous.

_Sarah..._

How he loved her. He needed her. And she forgave him. Energy flooded Jareth. He wanted to laugh, to scream, so sing—everything would be all right. She forgave him. She loved him. She would not destroy him, but lift him up. Now that she forgave him, now that her anger had faded, his world seemed a brighter place. Everything would work out.

_Sarah_. She was his. Whatever other problems he faced, as long as he had Sarah he could handle them. He loved her.

'I love you, Jareth,' Sarah whispered and Jareth's world, which had shattered and fallen over the last week, righted itself.

* * *

_So there you go. I know, I know—it's choppy. And the emotion isn't developed as much as it should be. I'm sorry, but I wanted to post _something_. I hope it's not too bad. _

_Am I developing Finvarra's character too much? I really like him and I like writing about him, but if you want to hear more about Jareth and Sarah and are getting bored with my OC, just let me know. Your wish is my command. _

_By the way, I've decided to change the name of my story. When I called it _Samhain Rites_ I hadn't worked out all the details yet, but now that she isn't under the spell anymore it seems inaccurate. When I post the next chapter I'm changing it to _Love Without Your Heartbeat_._


	18. Chapter 18

_How you revelled in my gifts,_

_My love, which you could not resist,_

_Your love for me was close to mad_

_And I loved you back with all I had._

**Chapter 18**

Jareth stared down at the board for a long time. Around him people talked and laughed, but a bubble of silence surrounded him. Finally, he reached forward, hesitated a moment longer, and then moved his rook forward two spaces.

'What are you doing?' Finvarra asked. 'You cannot move that rook. That is _my_ rook.'

'No,' Jareth replied, '_That_ is your rook.'

'That is my other rook. I moved _this_ rook here five turns ago, remember? I took your pawn.'

'No,' Jareth growled, 'you took my pawn with your bishop. And then I took your bishop with my rook.'

'You took my bishop with your knight, over here.'

'So according to you, where are my rooks?'

'Here…and here.'

'Why would I have a rook there?' Jareth demanded. 'That's three rows from your side and surrounded by your pieces! Why would I leave my rook there, in danger?'

'I do not know. I assumed you had some sort of complex plan.'

'If that were my rook you could have taken it easily by now. Why haven't you?'

'Because _I_ have a complex plan.'

They both narrowed their eyes and glared at each other over the chess board, which bore two sets of black pieces. Finally, Finvarra sighed.

'Fine,' he snapped. 'I suppose you conceded last time, so this time I will let you have your way, and we can pretend that it is your rook.' He glowered contemplatively at the board for a moment, and then moved his queen forward and took a pawn. Jareth frowned.

'You just took your own pawn, Finvarra.'

Sitting nearby, Sarah ducked her head and tried to stifle her laughter.

'Are they always like this?' she whispered to Onagh, who smiled and nodded her head.

'Always have been, and always will be.'

'If they both _have_ to be black,' Sarah asked, 'why don't they each just get a different set, so they don't match? Then they'd be able to tell them apart.'

'They tried that, a while ago, but they both agreed that it was more interesting this way.'

'That's ridiculous,' Sarah replied, still chuckling, and Onagh nodded.

'They bring out the worst in each other…but they bring out the best, too.'

The four of them were sitting together at Finvarra's Rath, where they had come for a war council of all the Unseelie Courts. It would be ridiculous, of course, to assume that work would come before play, so even though, after two days of waiting, all of the Unseelie kings and queens had finally arrived that morning, they council still hadn't taken place and wouldn't until that evening after a large party. In the meantime Jareth and Finvarra were amusing themselves and Onagh was attempting to teach Sarah how to embroider. So far she had pricked her finger three times and managed to make one stitch that passed as "acceptable".

Now that they were at Knockma Jareth couldn't keep Sarah confined the way he had in the Goblin City. He still kept her with him almost all of the time (sometimes he and Finvarra would go off together doing something mysterious and devious) but she didn't mind, so relieved was she that he had come home unharmed from battle. Sarah had been so scared for him that she had resolved to keep the peace, never to yell or argue and to try and understand his point of view. After facing the prospect of his death she realized, more than ever, how much she needed him, how being parted from him would destroy her. And besides, he really was quite endearing...when he was being nice.

Suddenly a servant arrived at the door, pulling Sarah from her reverie.

'King Jareth,' he said, bowing, 'your minstrel has arrived.'

'Send him in,' Jareth told him, and the servant bowed again and left. Onagh frowned delicately.

'I thought that our hall was closed, Finvarra, now that all our kings and queens have arrived.'

'Yes, yes, but this is a special case; Jareth and I have a plan for the war.'

'You actually talked about the war?' Onagh asked, raising her eyebrows high.

'Yes, we did,' Finvarra replied, looking so miffed that Sarah had to smile.

'I didn't know you had a minstrel, Jareth,' she said, 'I mean...do you really need one?'

'Of course I do, to entertain guests and whatnot. Besides, sometimes I feel like listening to music myself. I do not _always_ feel like singing. It is true, though,' he admitted, 'he does not have to work much. He has actually been on vacation for a few months now.'

As he spoke the door opened again, and the strangest person Sarah had ever seen stepped in. He was short and slender, with skin as white as snow and hair that fell like corkscrews around his shoulders. His eyes were enormous and as she watched them seemed to be slowly changing colour from green to yellow. Sarah recoiled as she saw two spiders sitting on his shoulder. He was holding a miniature guitar, and when he walked shimmering stardust trailed behind him.

'Welcome to Knockma, Ziggy,' Jareth said with a smile.

'Finvarra, Jareth,' Onagh said, 'what exactly is your plan?'

'We can hardly discuss it here,' Finvarra replied, 'there may be spies.' He glanced down at the still uncompleted game of chess, frowning. 'We will just assume that I will win,' he announced, getting to his feet. 'Come one, let us go someplace more secure to talk.'

'You can assume whatever you like, Finvarra,' Jareth told him, and the three men left the room. Sarah and Onagh looked at each other for a moment, then Sarah rolled her eyes and went back to trying to embroider.

Over an hour later, on the other side of Finvarra's Rath, Jareth, Finvarra and Ziggy sat in the council chamber working out the details of the plan.

'That is all well and good,' Jareth replied, 'but how do you expect me to go undercover in the Seelie Court? They all know me, and I am nothing if no recognisable.'

'Oh, do not worry about that,' Finvarra replied, waving a hand flippantly. 'I have a plan. Remember, they are sure to have an Oestra festival when dozens of people will flock to their halls.'

'Yes, but they will still see straight through a glamour, Finvarra.'

'Your disguise is not the important thing,' the high king replied. 'Trust me, I have a plan. What matters is that Ziggy knows what to do and that his magic is powerful enough.'

Ziggy's musical magic was incredibly strong, and they intended to combine it with theirs on the night of the spring equinox, when music was particularly powerful, to deal a severe blow to the Seelie Court.

'It is,' Ziggy assured them, his voice throaty and melodic. 'As long as King Jareth can support me from inside it won't be a problem.'

'I am tired of talking about this,' Finvarra announced, getting to his feet. 'We already have to go to a council meeting tonight; at least we should be able to enjoy ourselves for now.'

'But we just agreed not to bring this up at the council,' Jareth pointed out.

'Still,' Finvarra replied, 'you can only expect me to spend so much time at work every day.'

Jareth and Ziggy followed him to the door. He had hardly opened it, though, when a knight dressed in the black Unseelie armour burst in. He had obviously been running because his breath was short, and he spoke but one word: 'Attack.'

Immediately, Jareth and Finvarra sprang to action. Leaving the minstrel behind, they both dematerialized, hurrying off to get their own armour and weapons. The knight who had brought the news went with Finvarra, who demanded the details of the attack and began to give instructions, and Jareth met back up with them within minutes. There was no time to talk. An attack on the capital city had been completely unexpected, and although of course Finvarra had defence strategies worked out, the battle would still be trying. There was no doubt that they could force back the Seelie army—the fortifications around Finvarra's Rath were all but impossible to breach—but the fact that they had the gall and the confidence to attack was, in a word, worrisome.

Finvarra's soldiers were already at work when he and Jareth arrived. The two kings made eye contact for a brief moment, but didn't pause as they plunged into the fray.

* * *

An iron vice squeezed Sarah's heart. Each time Jareth rode out to battle it tightened, sometimes so much that she would find herself unable to breathe, and even though each time he returned it would ease a little it still grew more and more binding as the days wore on.

Even when he was safe in Knockma, though, she wasn't at peace because while he almost always insisted that she remain with him, he never spoke with her anymore. He and Finvarra—sometimes accompanied by another of their friends—would walk, play games, talk and sing, and Sarah was expected to shadow them and while she was rarely actually excluded, she was hardly ever included, either. She was just there. And while she did want to be around Jareth, irritation pricked at her as the phrase _seen but not heard_ strayed through her mind.

'This is gonna sound a little morbid,' Sarah commented to Onagh, 'but do you ever wish you could rip your heart out? Sometimes I think it would make things simpler.'

'Sarah, I have met people who have had their hearts ripped out,' Onagh replied. 'It would not make anything any better.'

The two were walking by the river on one of those rare occasions when Finvarra and Jareth were not at battle but Sarah was allowed to leave their company, which meant that they were probably discussing the war. It made Onagh angry when they did so without her, but she didn't fight it as long as they didn't take action without consulting her.

'I didn't mean it literally,' Sarah answered, shocked and slightly disgusted. 'How can someone possibly survive with their heart torn out?'

'Magic,' Onagh responded. 'But why are you wanting to metaphorically tear out your heart?'

'Jareth is driving me insane,' she sighed. 'I mean, I love him. I really do. And I know that he loves me.' She paused frowning. She couldn't actually think of a single incident when he had actually said the words…shaking her head, Sarah banished those thoughts; of course he loved her. 'But sometimes I don't think that he _likes_ me very much. He never even talks to me anymore.'

'Wait until you get back to the Goblin City, and things will go back to normal. When Jareth and Finvarra are together they never have any time for anyone else.'

'I just feel…' Sarah sighed, sinking down onto a low wall of stone. 'Trapped. If he finds out that I left the castle today, even with you, he'll throw a fit.'

Onagh waved her hand to make the snow vanish from the wall before sitting down. She said nothing, but Sarah got the distinct impression that she didn't feel very sympathetic. And suddenly she missed her human friends very much.

It had been a while since she had thought about them. Jareth—whether he was being nice or not—always seem to chase everything and everyone else from her mind, and Onagh had provided her with the female company she had sometimes craved. Now, though, she missed having people whom she could tell everything and anything, people with so many shared memories, people to whom she related perfectly.

'Sarah,' Onagh said suddenly, 'why did you run away from him? What did he do?'

For a long moment Sarah said nothing. The topic of the flight was unofficially taboo between her and Jareth, who always just pretended that it had never happened, and she hadn't talked about it with anyone else, either.

'It's hard to describe,' she finally answered softly. 'Thinking back, I can't believe that I actually did it, and even at the time it almost destroyed me. But it was all just getting to be too much. He was so controlling, so possessive, so objectifying…and sometimes he was just plain cruel. Not to me, really, but the punishments he would deal out to his subjects for the most mundane things were terribly brutal. I just…couldn't take it anymore.'

'And has he changed?'

'No,' Sarah sighed after a long moment, 'not really. But I don't know what to do about it, Onagh. I love him. But he wants me to spend eternity with him, and frankly, the idea scares me. I'm a human, not a faerie; we aren't made to live forever.' She thought back to her first trip to the Underground, so many years ago. Things had been so simple then: defeat the evil Goblin King, save her brother. Certainly she had been enamoured with Jareth…but it hadn't been much of an issue.

'Yes,' Onagh agreed. 'Contrary to popular belief, forever is a very long time indeed. Come on, though—we should go back. Today is Oestra, remember, and Jareth's mission is terribly dangerous. You should be there for him.'

Immediately, the vice tightened around Sarah's heart at the thought of Jareth in danger.

'Could please not say stuff like that?' she complained as they got to their feet and headed back to Finvarra's Rath, and Onagh laughed softly.

'I am sure he will be fine. Although Finvarra still has not told us how he intends to get Jareth undercover in the Seelie Court…'

* * *

It had finally happened. Finvarra had gone completely insane. He had lost his mind. There was no other explanation.

Tentatively, Jareth probed magically at the air surrounding his friend to make sure that it wasn't actually someone else wearing a glamour. No, it was actually the high king. There was no doubt about it, then; he had gone mad.

'You need a vacation, Finvarra,' Jareth told him seriously, turning away from the hideous _thing_ his friend had spread out before him. 'Perhaps a few decades of intense psychotherapy can get you back to normal. I blame the war—too much stress.'

'Do not be ridiculous, Jareth. I am in complete control of my senses. This is the only way to get you into the Seelie Court.'

'It would never work. And even if it would, I refuse. I knew we should have discussed this earlier. Quickly, we must contact Ziggy and call the whole thing off.'

'Jareth, this is serious,' Finvarra snapped, starting to get annoyed. 'You know very well that the only problem here is your pride, which you are just going to have to disregard for one evening for the sake of the plan.'

'And you know very well that the only reason you are doing this is for your own amusement,' Jareth replied furiously. For a long moment they glared at each other, neither one denying the charges.

'No one will find out,' Finvarra finally said quietly. 'And you cannot deny that it is a good idea.'

Jareth let out heavy sigh, dumbfounded that he was even considering it. He pulled out his pocket watch and winced when he saw the time—the Seelie ball would be starting soon.

'You will owe me for the rest of eternity, Finvarra,' Jareth told him, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see his friend's ecstatically amused expression. Cringing, his whole body flinching away, he donned the disguise.

'Are you not going to look in the mirror?' Finvarra asked innocently.

'No,' snapped Jareth. 'Now, my face will still be recognisable.'

'Yes, we have to—' but before he could finish a knock came at the door. 'Who is it?'

'It's Sarah,' a voice called out. 'Can I come in?'

'Do not let her in!' Jareth shouted, but it was too late; Finvarra had opened the door.

When Sarah heard the door open she immediately looked down at the floor; she didn't want to risk looking Finvarra in the eye. Tentatively, she glanced up, glanced away again, and glanced back, frowning. It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing.

White. So much white. And silver. Sparkling, filling up most of the small room, unbelievably pouffy, enormous, shimmering in the light. It was a contradiction, a non-sequitur. It didn't make sense. Sarah felt her mouth hanging open. The blinding white was hurting her eyes, but she couldn't tear her gaze away. So much white…

It was Jareth. And he was wearing a dress.

Sarah burst out laughing.

'Shut the door,' Jareth growled, flicking his fingers and doing it magically. Sarah was still having trouble controlling her laughter. Wiping her eyes, she turned away trying to control herself. Jareth sighed.

'Well there goes my masculinity,' he muttered.

'It serves you right,' Sarah replied. 'Now you know how I felt when you forced me into a dress like that all those years ago.'

'Sarah, that dress was a dream come true for you, at the time. Do not even bother denying it.' He was smiling, though.

'You still just look like a man in a dress, though. What about your face and hair?'

'We were just going to get to work on that,' Finvarra told her.

'Can I do your make-up?'

'Absolutely not,' Jareth replied. 'Go and embroider or read a book or something. I would like to keep my few remaining shreds of pride intact, if you do not mind.'

'Will I see you again before you leave?'

'No, I am afraid not. We are already running late.'

'Okay. Jareth,' she added, glancing over at Finvarra and wishing that he wasn't there, 'be careful, alright?' She stepped forward and kissed him gently. Jareth put his arms around her and tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled away.

'It feels kind of weird to be kissing someone in a dress,' she explained, not wanting to admit that she felt awkward kissing him front of Finvarra. 'Just be careful, okay? I love you.'

'Do not worry; the Seelie Court is no match for me,' he told her confidently, and she gave him a final smile before leaving the room. She closed the door quickly so that no one outside could see in, but not before stealing one last look at the Goblin King dressed in a floor-length, hoop-skirted, poof-sleeved, shimmering white ball gown.

When Sarah was gone Jareth took a moment to gain control of his anger, and then turned his livid gaze to Finvarra. Hands on his hips, he threatening stalked a step closer, glaring furiously.

'Sorry, Jareth,' Finvarra told him, 'but it is hard to find you intimidating when you are wearing a dress. Now come here, I have to make you look like a woman.'

A few hours later, Jareth sat in a white wicker chair at the edge of an immense room, trying to look dainty and pretty and trying very hard to suppress the scowl that kept threatening to form across his face. He could not believe he was doing this.

Luckily, his disguise seemed to have worked very well. He had introduced himself as "Retha", and no one had seemed at all suspicious. It shocked him that the Seelie capital city—the political and military center—could be so easily penetrated, but he supposed that the new king hadn't been ruling for long and didn't really understand how dangerous it was not to defend himself better.

'A dance, fair lady?' someone said nearby. Jareth found himself reminiscing about the formal ball he had attended with Sarah for Imbolc. Holding her in his arms, feeling her surrendering to him, trusting him, seeing the love and adoration in her eyes... What was he going to do with her? He knew that she loved him, and Anu knew that he loved her, too. But she wasn't his yet, not really. Since he had returned from battle she had been far more docile, far less insistent on having her way, but even so he caught a look of irritation, even anger, in her eyes sometimes.

'My lady?' Someone tapped Jareth on the shoulder and he looked over in annoyance, hardly remembering to alter his voice before answering; this was so humiliating.

'Yes?'

'May I have this dance?' Horror hit Jareth like a battle axe, searing through him, opening his chest and stomach with one savage blow.

'Oh...um...well...' It hadn't crossed his mind that someone might ask him to dance at the ball. 'I am...quite tired, thank you.'

'I have been watching you, my lady, and you have not gotten up from this seat all evening,' the faerie replied, raising an eyebrow, and Jareth's insides hollowed as he came to realize that in order to avoid suspicion he would have to say yes.

_Finvarra, I will murder you_.

Humiliation consuming him, "Retha" allowed himself to be led to the dance floor. He didn't know the steps, but that didn't stop his enormously tall and buff faerie conquest from putting his arms around him and sweeping him across the floor, surprisingly graceful in spite of his girth. Jareth stumbled along after him, trying to remember when to step backwards and when to turn. The faerie's hand suddenly started to creep higher up his side towards his "bosom", and Jareth began to panic. What was he supposed to do? He tripped over the ridiculous white skirt and tried to look over his shoulder for an escape route but couldn't see past the enormous sleeves.

'I have not seen you around before,' the faerie commented, and in his panic and humiliation Jareth couldn't remember the careful story he had planned.

'Oh...have you not?' he replied feebly instead, his voice coming out far too low.

'I am sure I would have remembered such a lovely young lady,' his partner leered, pulling Jareth closer.

'Oh no, I am really not all that recognisable,' he told him, trying to back away without appearing to do so, and this time his voice shot far higher than he had intended it to.

Lovely? _Lovely_? He wasn't _actually_ pretty, was he? That would just be too much to handle.

'My dearest lady, I beg to differ,' the faerie told him. He pulled him still closer, and Jareth's protests were no match for his partner's muscled arms. While he struggled to both follow the steps and pull away, the faerie brushed his lips across Jareth's neck.

And that was just too much. Abandoning all attempts at femininity, Jareth yanked himself from the arms of the faerie, face burning with fury and humiliation, and pushed violently through the throngs of other dancers. He didn't know what he intended to do, but there was no way he was going to stay here, in this horrendous disguise. Jareth was on the cusp of dematerializing, of throwing the careful plan to the winds, when at long last he felt the tug of Ziggy's magic.

Jareth couldn't sing, not here. But he found a relatively secluded corner and let Ziggy's music flow through him. He anchored it, channelled it, shaped it, drew it forth, his own magic streaming into the world along with it, until the very air was thick and saturated with music and magic. The horror and humiliation of the evening fell away as he surrendered himself completely to the music which flowed in his every vein. And then, when there was no magic left to draw upon, he released it. Released it, and in the same moment dematerialized, saving himself from the destruction that would follow.

* * *

Sarah waited anxiously for Jareth's return. There was an Oestra ball at Knockma, too, but she didn't attend. Instead she spent the time sitting by the window in her room, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Sometimes, when she remembered him in his disguise, she couldn't help smiling, but for the most part she was too worried.

The sun had already started to rise when she finally heard the door open. She had began to get to her feet, prepared to throw herself into Jareth's arms, when she saw that Finvarra was with him. She stayed where she was.

'...for months,' Finvarra was saying, and Jareth nodded. He was dressed in regular clothes again and his face was clean of makeup, but his hair was still slightly dishevelled.

'I suppose it was probably worth it, then,' he replied, 'but I will still never forgive you.' He glanced over and saw Sarah.

'Sarah, you are not at the ball?' he asked, frowning as he saw the clothes she was wearing. Sarah wished that she'd thought to change into something he approved of, but also wished that he wouldn't make such a big deal about such an insignificant thing.

'I didn't feel like it. I wanted to make sure you were okay.' At that Jareth smiled.

'Of course I am. Come here.' Sarah slid to her feet and went to him and let him kiss her, even though Finvarra's presence caused her to burn with embarrassment. After a moment they broke apart, but instead of letting go of Sarah Jareth held her to his chest, his arms still wrapped around her.

'We need to discuss our next move,' he said, and Finvarra nodded.

'That is why I suggested we come here; I have no doubt that the Seelie Court has managed to get around our defences and eavesdrop on the council chamber and my own apartment, but here it is probably still safe.'

'I think so, too, but we should still be careful,' Jareth replied. 'Although I suppose that after the blow we just dealt them they have more important things to be worrying about then spying on us.'

Sarah knew that if she bothered to ask what had happened they would only tell her that they didn't have time to explain. So she pulled away from Jareth, said, 'Okay, I'll see you later,' and hurried to their bedroom door.

'Sarah—' Jareth began, but she closed the door before he could finish. She knew that he would want her to stay with him, but there was no way she was going to sit for hours alone with him and Finvarra, letting him hold her in his lap but otherwise completely ignore her. Sarah did want to see him, longed to be with him, too, and had been longing for his return all night—but when they were together she wanted it to be about them, not about the war. She stormed to the bed, climbed in without even bothering to change into her nightclothes and curled up into a ball, closing her eyes tightly.

In the other room, Jareth glared after her.

'You should not let her walk away from you like that,' Finvarra told him.

'We need to talk about the war,' Jareth replied, stalking to a chair and sitting down.

'I know. I am just saying that you should not let her defy you.' Jareth sighed angrily and conjured a crystal which showed Sarah's stiff, angry, defiant face.

'She is still not mine,' he said, letting the crystal evaporate and clenching his fist. After the terrible evening he had had, would it have been so hard for Sarah to be nice to him upon his return? He didn't even know what he had done to make her angry. Apparently she had stayed up all night alone worrying about him, but now when he came home she ran from him. It didn't make sense. Why was she always running from him? What had he done this time?

'No,' Finvarra replied. 'not yet. But you are getting close. All you have to do is seal your hold over her.'

'Yes. But for now the war is the most important thing. Do you think—'

'Jareth, this war could last for decades. You need to make her yours. She has to understand that she is your property.'

'Must you spell it out in such harsh terms, Finvarra?' Jareth replied angrily. 'Do you not remember that conversation we had before I went to find Midir? I love her.'

'But right now you are making yourself a slave to her, Jareth, and demanding nothing in return.'

'Fine, then, what do you suggest?' Jareth said irritably. He did not want to talk about this, because he knew that everything that Finvarra was saying was true. He spent all of his time thinking about Sarah, he wanted to be with her all the time, he did everything he could think of to make her happy, and in return she whined and moped and ran from him, just as she'd been doing since she was a teenager.

'Oh, there are any number of things you could do,' Finvarra answered. 'Lock her in the dungeon whenever she defies you, until she learns not to. If she walks away from you then refuse to be in her company for a month. Kill everyone she loved in the human world, so she realizes that she has no choice but to stay with you, the last person who loves her. The surest way would be Aine's Curse, of course—'

'Do not even suggest that, Finvarra,' Jareth growled. 'I will not harm her. How many times must I tell you that?'

'Yes, yes, I know,' Finvarra answered, 'I know. In that case just remind her why she is here in the first place. She loves you. She is completely addicted to magic, even I can see that and she hardly ever talks around me. After living here the human world would seem grey in comparison, and it would drive her mad. She cannot live without you now, and she knows that, or at least she used to. Remind her.'

Jareth stared at Finvarra for a long moment.

'Surprisingly,' he told him, 'that actually is not a bad idea. I would never have expected you to come up with it. It is not at all cruel or evil.'

'I can be nice sometimes, Jareth,' Finvarra replied. 'Think about it. For now, though, you are unfortunately right: we should talk about the war.' He scowled distastefully as he sat down. It really was amazing that he had remained in power for so long when he despised work so much.'

* * *

The next day Sarah's mood had improved slightly. Because of the success of Jareth's mission the night before, and because of the equinox, everyone was taking a day off from constant war-work. She had spent the morning with Jareth and although they hadn't discussed the problems with their relationship he had been kind and loving and they talked and laughed the way they used to.

In the afternoon they joined the rest of the nobility. Most of the queens still regarded Sarah with a mixture of confusion and suspicion, but she was content to just sit quietly and wait for Onagh to arrived, which she eventually did. Sarah had noticed that the high queen didn't seem to have a very good relationship with the other female monarchs, either, so the two of them sat together and talked, and ignored the others.

'So is everything better between you and Jareth?' Onagh asked quietly after making sure that Jareth was deep in conversation with someone else.

'I don't know,' Sarah whispered back. 'When he acts like this it seems that way, but it never lasts. I just don't know.'

Suddenly Onagh's demeanour changed almost imperceptibly. She appeared to both stiffen and relax at the same time, and Sarah knew without looking up that Finvarra had entered the room. She scowled. The two of them were playing chess, and unlike Jareth Onagh went easy on her so the game lasted more than a few minutes, so Sarah focused on the pieces and ignored that fact that Jareth immediately left her side and went to talk to his friend.

'Sarah? Your Grace?' Jareth interrupted a few minutes later as Onagh generously allowed Sarah to take her bishop. 'Finvarra and I have to go check something. We will see you later tonight.' Sarah looked up at him in surprise that he wasn't insisting that she come.

'What do you have to check?' she asked curiously, because she knew that they had decided not to work today, and Jareth smiled.

'It is a surprise. So you two have better be ready at dusk.' With that, he and Finvarra got to their feet and left the room. Sarah looked after him in shock. Far from ignoring her, as usual, the two kings were going to spend their afternoon preparing a surprise. Sarah's dislike for Finvarra softened as she realized that whatever it was, Onagh was invited, too.

For a moment the two women sat in silence. Then Onagh glanced out the window at the sun. 'We have about four hours until dusk,' she said. They both looked at the unfinished chess game for a moment.

'I'm getting tired of chess,' Sarah declared.

'Me too, strangely enough,' Onagh answered with a smile. 'We can finish this later.' In unison they got to their feet and hurried off to get ready.

Jareth knocked at Finvarra's door a few minutes later, and when there was no answer he opened it without invitation and stepped inside. He didn't know what his friend was doing, but they had to go if they were going to get the surprise ready on time. He walked impatiently through the lavish apartment. This was Finvarra's idea, after all—you would think that he would be ready. Finally Jareth saw that the door to the balcony was open, and approached it curiously. Finvarra was standing on the terrace, staring down at the courtyard, looking very mean. His heart sinking, Jareth stepped out, closing the door behind him, and walked up beside his friend.

'What are you thinking about, Finvarra?' Finvarra laughed.

'Do you promise not to tell anyone?'

'...all right,' Jareth replied, wondering if he wanted to hear this. The night they had planned was exciting and romantic: what gruesome torture could the high king possibly have dreamed up? What evil, murderous, selfish deed did he have in mind, to make him look so dark and furious and brooding?

'I was thinking about love,' Finvarra told him.

'Love,' Jareth repeated in surprise. 'Oh. I was expecting something...worse.'

'Worse? What could possibly be worse than love? It is without a doubt the most confusing, incomprehensible, agonizing thing anyone could imagine.'

'Well. Yes, I suppose so. It just did not seem like the sort of thing you would stand around thinking about. Have you come to any...conclusions?'

'None whatsoever,' Finvarra replied, and then sighed. 'Not that I expected to.' Love wasn't something that the two of them discussed very often; in fact, until a few days ago Jareth hadn't thought that Finvarra was even capable of love. He couldn't help feeling curious about it, though.

'Finvarra,' he began carefully, 'you told me that you have, at some time, loved someone. And you also told me that you have never really thought about whether or not you loved Onagh.' Finvarra shifted, turning from the frosty courtyard to look him in the eye.

'I never really thought about love at all, except as a manipulation technique, until Sarah arrived and you began to act like a complete lovesick fool. Then I started thinking about it, wondering about it, and I realized...' His voice was soft, and after a moment he turned away, breaking Jareth's gaze, and sighed again. Jareth considered asking him whom he loved, or had loved in the past, but got the feeling that if he did the conversation would be cut short.

'So why did you marry Onagh?' he asked instead, looking out at the snow-covered grounds. 'Do not tell me it was for political reasons, although there were many, or because she would be a good queen, although she is. You never do anything you do not want to do.'

'I married her because I wanted her. I wanted her, and I did not want anyone else to have her, ever. She was not like anyone else I had ever met—there was a grace, a nobility, about her. And I knew that I would not be able to keep her for myself unless I married her, and that I would never meet anyone else whom I would rather marry. I did not love her.' He paused for a moment, frowning. 'Or I suppose I might have. You see what I mean when I say that this ridiculous emotion is confusing?'

'Well,' Jareth asked, still incredulous that he was actually having this conversation, 'did being around her make you happy?'

'Yes,' Finvarra replied, 'but I like to think that being around me makes you happy, and you do not love me, do you?'

'Finvarra, you should be able to tell when you love someone.'

'Is it possible to love two people at once?'

'Er,' Jareth replied, laughing uncertainly, 'I do not know. I think?'

'In that case,' Finvarra replied, 'now that you mention it...I think that I do love Onagh. Yes,' he added, more certainly, 'yes, I love her. This whole love malarkey really is a pain, though, is it not?'

'Have you really never thought about it before?' Jareth asked.

'Honestly, I have not. It has never really seemed important.'

'You must have felt _something_ for...Onagh...though,' he answered, still trying to figure out who else Finvarra might love.

'Well yes, I suppose. Enough to make an effort to hide it at any rate. Obviously.'

'Actually, that was not very obvious at all. It has always seemed like you could not be bothered with her, except when it came to politics.'

'It had to seem that way, did it not? Just imagine if I had shown any affection for her. She probably would not have lived longer than a century, with all of my enemies after her.'

'You said that you wanted her more than you wanted anyone else, though. So why all of the human girls?'

'Well, I must admit that I have gotten a little bored with Onagh. She is more beautiful than humans, or course—no offence to your Sarah—but not as...exotic. And she is not very much fun, is she?'

'But it obviously upsets her, Finvarra.'

'Does it? Well, sooner or later she will do something interesting that will re-awaken my interest in her, I suppose.'

'If you have no interest in her then why did you invite her tonight?'

'Because I feel like coming, and I do not particularly want to be the third wheel. But if I brought a human girl it might spoil the evening for Sarah. Women spend an enormous amount of time worrying about each other's problems.' He frowned. 'How strange to think that I actually love Onagh. What an absurd notion. Anyhow, we have better go if we are going to have your present ready in time.'

'You are absolutely ridiculous, Fin,' Jareth sighed, pushing away from the balcony and heading back inside.

'Do not call me _Fin_,' Finvarra growled. 'I am not a fish.'

* * *

There was nothing quite like getting ready for a date with a friend, Sarah thought to herself as Onagh's nimble faerie fingers massaged jasmine oil into her scalp, especially when that friend could use magic. Over the months she'd spent in Jareth's Kingdom Sarah had gotten dressed up more than once, because there had been dances or celebrations every single night and while she didn't attend them all, she had attended quite a few. She had always been alone, though, and Jareth, being male, hadn't provided her with all of the necessary tools. Onagh, on the other hand, had multiple combs and brushes and creams and oils and shampoos, magic lotions to make the skin glow and the hair shine, charms to keep bath water warm and clean, incense to relax the muscles and the mind, and so much more. The only things she lacked were makeup and perfume, because Faeries didn't wear any, and Sarah had brought some with her from Aboveground.

'What are you going to wear?' Sarah asked after they had both bathed, working the magic contents of Onagh's vials and bottles until their hair was sleek and smooth and their skin soft and healthy.

'I do not know,' the queen sighed. She stepped into her enormous walk-in closet and rifled through the multiple dresses there, pulled out one that made Sarah gasp in wonder and then cast it aside. 'What will you wear?'

'No idea. What kind of a surprise do you think it will be?'

'You probably know Jareth better than I do,' Onagh replied with a wry smile, 'and whatever it is, it was definitely his idea.' As she spoke a trace of sadness leaked into her voice, even though Sarah could tell that she was trying to hide it. She suddenly remembered that while she was looking forward to a wonderful, romantic night with the man she loved, Onagh was looking forward to a strained and formal evening with a man who didn't love her back.

'Why do you love him?' she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. 'He's a complete asshole. He's cruel and arrogant and he cheats on you.'

'It is not his fault,' Onagh replied. 'I am a Faerie; Faeries do not appeal to him the way human girls do. It is his nature.'

'That's a really lousy excuse,' Sarah answered, remembering unpleasantly how she had continued to excuse Jareth's bad behaviour for so long. 'But Onagh,' she added suddenly, 'I have an idea. Come with me.'

The two of them were in Onagh's rooms, but Sarah took her hand and led her next door to the apartment she and Jareth were staying in, leading her to the bathroom and picking up a pair of scissors.

'What are you going to do?' the Faerie queen asked uncertainly.

'You've got to be the most beautiful woman Above or Underground. Finvarra doesn't know what he has. And tonight,' she said with a smile, 'we're going to show him.'

'I do not understand.'

'You say that it's in his nature to like humans. Well, I'm a human, Onagh. I know what he wants. And I can make him see you in that light. I can make him want you. Do you trust me?'

Onagh hesitated a long moment. She ran her fingers through her floor-length golden hair, obviously having figured out what Sarah was going to do, and then closed her eyes and nodded. And Sarah got to work.

She didn't make Onagh look like a human; that wouldn't have been possible. But when she was finished the queen had all of the elements of a human girl, she just wore them with an exotic, faerie glow, making the look far more beautiful that any human could have. Her hair was still long, reaching almost to her waist, but Sarah cut it in layers to frame her shapely face. Her eyes were lined in black and her eyeshadow and mascara diminished the otherworldliness of her eyes, keeping their captivating beauty but giving them a hint of the innocence and youth of a teenage girl. The only jewellery she wore was single blue stone on a black choker. Her nails were bright blue to match her eyes, and she was dressed in black skinny jeans, a midnight-blue tank top and converse, clothes that Sarah had bought Aboveground and brought down with her. Of course, Onagh was taller and more slender, but a little magic was enough to fix that.

No matter how long she stared at Onagh, Sarah still couldn't wrap her mind around the picture. She was a contradiction, a paradox, an oxymoron. Compared to Onagh, no human girl could seem exotic in any way, only dull.

'None except for you, of course,' Onagh assured her when Sarah told her this. She had seemed shocked but pleased to see herself in the mirror when Sarah was finished, although the makeup had confused and irritated her at first ('_Why should I put dirt on my face?_').

'The weird thing is,' grumbled Sarah, 'that while Finvarra wants you to be human, Jareth seems to want _me_ to turn into a Faerie.'

'Well, if that is what he wants,' Onagh replied, 'then I shall do my best.' And so she did. She dressed Sarah in one of her own long, gossamer silvery-white gowns that moved like wind and flowed like water, and shone with the light of the stars. The simplicity of it complimented Sarah's slim and tone body and captured the essence of Faerie in its strands. The waist was cinched with a silver rope and a shimmering, forest-green shawl was draped across her shoulders. Her usually pin-straight hair fell in soft waves down her back, and Onagh had woven two thin braids, one at each of her temples, and fastened them at the back of her head with a green ribbon to form a crown around her head.

When Sarah saw herself in the mirror she couldn't help the smile that spread across her unpainted face. It wouldn't have been possible to make her look like a Faerie, but she had all of the right elements. The fact that she was human only added to the beauty of the traditional style, making her seem exotic and otherworldly—because here, in Faerie, that was exactly what she was. The shimmering cloth of the gown gave her an almost ethereal appearance, though, and when the light hit her back in the right angle it looked like she might almost have wings.

'We should probably eat something,' Onagh said, interrupting her happy reverie, but Sarah shook her head.

'I'm not very hungry,' Sarah replied, grinning over at her friend. To her disappointment, Onagh's face had lost the light it had gained when she'd first seen herself in the mirror. 'What's wrong, Onagh? Aren't you happy?' She worried suddenly that cutting the queen's hair had been a mistake—the makeup and clothes could come off, but the hair would take years, maybe decades, to grow back.

'Very,' Onagh replied with a small smile. 'This had been a lot of fun. Thank you.' Sarah realized suddenly that Onagh didn't want to get her hopes up, because she was certain they would just be crushed. She decided to change the subject.

At a loss for what to talk about, Sarah found herself telling Onagh about how she had run away from Jareth. She had always held back when they had discussed it before, but this time within minutes the whole story, all of her doubts and feelings, were pouring out of her. It was a definite relief to have someone to tell, because she hadn't been able to talk about it with Jareth. Onagh listened sympathetically and actually seemed to empathise.

'You are so strong, Sarah,' she said in admiration when Sarah had told everything that there was to tell. Sarah was about to respond when she heard the door in the next room opening. They both leapt to their feet.

'Remember,' Sarah whispered, 'you're not a human. Don't try to be one. _Never_ change yourself for a man. All I've done is give you a makeover, change the shell he sees, to remind him why he loved you in the first place. You can change your appearance....but never change yourself.' Before Onagh could respond Sarah grabbed her hand and pulled her into the next room, where Jareth and Finvarra stood side-by-side.

The way Jareth's eyes lit up when he saw her, overflowing with pride and adoration, made it very hard to look away, but she wanted to see Finvarra's reaction so she smiled at him, to let him know she wasn't shunning him, before glancing to his left.

At first Sarah was very tempted to punch Finvarra. Unlike Jareth, he looked bored and uninterested, almost impatient. When they stepped into the room he didn't even bother to look at them right away, and when he did he glanced at Sarah first. His eyes briefly flicked to Onagh before moving away again. Then, though, he stopped, his whole body seemed to go still, and he looked slowly back at his queen. For a long moment he stared at her, his grey eyes widening in surprise and wonder and, Sarah was almost certain, desire. Everything was silent.

'I have never really understood the women and their tendency to borrow each others clothes,' Finvarra finally said softly. 'But it is starting to make sense to me now.' A smile dipped across his face. Sarah, grinning broadly, turned back to Jareth, who she knew hadn't glanced away from her for a moment.

'Good evening, my lord,' she said teasingly; she usually greeted him with, "Hey, Jareth."

'My Lady,' he replied, offering her his arm. Finvarra did the same for Onagh, and the two Faeries kings led their ladies away into the twilight.

Even though she had been living Underground for months, the wonders of Faerie never dulled for Sarah. As she was led through the forest she had to stop herself from gasping at the beauty and the magic. She didn't know where they were, because Finvarra and Jareth had transported them somewhere far from the Goblin City, but wherever they were it was summertime.

'Jareth, where are we going?' Sarah asked for the millionth time, but he just smiled and shook his head, so Sarah sighed and went back to admiring their surroundings. Just by the height and shape of the trees she guessed that they were somewhere in the tropics, but couldn't for the life of her say where. And everywhere she looked there were little winged snakes, darting between the great green leaves, and beautiful fairies with brightly-coloured butterfly wings and mischievous knobbly faces that poked out from holes in trees to watch them pass. The warm breeze whispered to her as it ruffled her hair, muttering promises of forgotten dreams and distant desires, and the world was alive with a faster, more wild magic then she had thus far experienced.

With each step she took Sarah's excitement grew. Earlier that evening she had been excited for the date only because, for once, she had someone to be excited with, but now the thrill had more to do with where they were, with what they were seeing. _This_ was why Sarah had to stay Underground. Magic. She loved Jareth, it was true, but what had really held her all those years wasn't just the memory of him, but the memory of his world. Everything was alive, and everything sang with some deep secret, something she could glimpse, sometimes, but never truly understand. That was what she yearned for. And this jungle, wherever it was, was rich was something very different than the magic of the Goblin City, or of Finvarra's Rath, the only two other places in Faerie that she had ever visited. She wondered if Jareth had decided to take her hear because he knew that she yearned to see more of his world.

And they stopped. Sarah looked around, uncertain what she was looking for. They had ascended to the top of a hill. Actually, she realized, it was more of a mountain, but for some reason the climb, though it had been steep, hadn't been very hard, despite the fact that her clothes were definitely not made for mountaineers. Perhaps it was the magic in the air.

Up the sides of the mountain the brightly coloured vegetation grew in full force. A distant corner of Sarah's mind wondered if there were mountains in the rainforests in the human world, but she was far more interested in Faerie so she didn't dwell on it. The top of the mountain was strewn with rocks, huge boulders of harsh greys, deep blue and soft purples, with plants growing between them.

'Sarah,' Jareth said softly, 'stay here for now?'

'What? Why?' she asked, confused, looking around.

'It could be dangerous. Please stay here, just in case. It will only be for a minute, so I can make sure it is safe.' Sarah sighed.

'Alright,' she replied. She would really have to see if it was possible for a human to learn magic, and if not she'd have to take up sword fighting or something.

'Stay here with Sarah,' Finvarra told Onagh, pulling his arm from hers and starting forward with Jareth. Onagh took a step after him, then stopped and turned back to Sarah. It was strange to see her in pants and a top: she looked amazing, of course, but she would never be anything but a Faerie queen, and never belong in anything but a dress.

'I can defend myself just as well as he can,' she grumbled, but made no move to go after them.

'So what do you think it is?' Sarah asked, staring after the two kings as they leapt from stone to stone.

'You do not know?' Onagh asked, sounding surprised. 'Well, I will not tell you then. What I do not know is what they plan to do with them...'

'With what?' Sarah asked, feeling very left out. Just then, though, the ground began to tremble.

And then there was fire and screaming and everything was moving and everything was loud, blaring roaring, shrieking, stones falling, dust crumbling, the sky was alight with flames. Sarah found that she was clutching Onagh's arm and that her breath was coming in short gasps. The ground had stopped shaking, the fire had stopped burning, but it was still the most terrifying sight she had ever seen; the most terrifying, and without a doubt the most magical.

'Dragons,' she whispered. 'By the spirits. Dragons.'

There had been two of them, hidden beneath the vegetation, their green scales camouflaging them perfectly. Now Jareth stood beside one and Finvarra beside the other, their hair streaming behind them in the wind, mirror images flanking the ferocious beasts.

'So is everything all right?' Onagh asked, taking a step forward, prying Sarah's fingers from her wrist.

'Of course, of course. Come up,' Finvarra replied, his radiance almost tangible, and Onagh started forward, but Sarah couldn't move. She wanted to: she had always loved dragons and wanted nothing more than to get close to one. She remembered all of the hours she had spent drawing dragons, all of the dragon books she had read, all of the time she'd spent online researching them, dreaming of them, longing for them. But some instinct kept her immobilized.

'It is all right, Sarah. We have an agreement; they will not hurt you.' Jareth's voice calmed, her, worked its way into her mind and fought her fear. It washed over her, a torrent of peace, and she knew that as long as he was there she would be safe. She took a deep, shuddering breath; she could move again.

'Come on, now, Sarah,' Finvarra said impatiently. 'You will have to get used to things like this if you are to live here.'

'Finvarra,' Sarah replied, striding forward, her fear dissolved and excitement rearing up to replace it. 'Can you do me a favour and just shut up for five minutes?' Before the High King could respond Jareth grabbed her hand, leapt onto to dragon's back and, with a blast of flame, they took off across the start-strewn sky.

It was like nothing Sarah had ever experienced before. For long minutes she couldn't even think, couldn't even process what was happening: she was flying. She was riding on a dragon. The speed was incredible, indescribable, it pulled her hair back so hard that her scalp stung, pinched and dragged at the skin of her face, drew tears from eyes forced open by the wind...but she wouldn't have wanted to close them if she could have. Were it not for Jareth's arms around her she would have been torn from the dragon's back and tossed in the wind, but his warm body kept her secure and her thoughts didn't even stray close to the danger.

After a long time Sarah realized that she was laughing, laughing harder than she had ever laughed before. The creature beneath her was simmering with magic, as was the air around them, and she had never felt closer to Faerie. The sky was clear above them, and in the moonlight she could see the green blur of the jungle below. Sarah was alive, more alive than she had ever dreamed possible, her every nerve singing with ice and fire. This was magic. This was Faerie. This was where she belonged. And when her soaring, racing mind finally calmed enough for her to think at all her predominant thought was, _how could I ever have left?_

Whether they flew for hours for minutes or days, Sarah couldn't have said. The thrill never died, never lessened, only grew as she discovered new aspects of it with each tilt of the dragon's wings. It was exhilarating and exhausting at once. She didn't feel like she was riding on magic—she felt like she was a part of the magic, flowing with it, her body at one with her mind and with the world. She had no idea what was happening, but it didn't matter. She completely relinquished control, surrendering herself to the power and magic of the dragon. She was flying. _Flying_.

And then she was falling. She didn't know what had happened, but the dragon was gone; she could see it above her, flying away, but she was plummeting towards the ground. It didn't matter, though, because Jareth was with her, holding her, so she knew that no harm could befall her. And, although the thrill was not as great, there was a terrible excitement to be had from just falling, falling so fast that she almost seemed to be floating, the wind whistling past her face, her hair streaming behind her, mingling with Jareth's.

They slowed before they hit the ground. She staggered, her legs wobbling, and Jareth took her arms, holding her upright.

'That...that was...' she shook her head, unable to find the right words. '...a dream...' she finally finished, and he laughed softly.

'I did promise,' he told her, kissing her hair softly. 'I wanted to show you what my world has to offer, to show you what you have chosen. I wanted to show you that you made the right choice. From now on, your whole life will be a dream.'

She wanted to say thank you, but knew that the words could never express her gratitude, so instead she just looked him in the eye for a long moment, and kissed him.

When they broke apart Sarah stumbled again, her legs still weak from the flight, and Jareth took her hand and lowered her to the ground, sitting down next to her. A few yards away Finvarra and Onagh were standing, but instead of approaching they smiled and walked away.

'Did we jump off of the dragon?' Sarah asked, and Jareth nodded.

'Landing would have been too much of a bother. You were not too frightened, were you?' He sounded concerned, so Sarah leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

'Once I was on the dragon, fear didn't even cross my mind. That was unbelievable, Jareth, impossible...like I said, it was a dream. This is a dream. My life has turned into one.' She smiled as he put his arms around her. 'I think that I can live with a lifelong dream.'

'It will last longer than a lifetime, Precious,' Jareth murmured, caressing her hair. 'This dream will last for eternity.'

* * *

Onagh let herself float to the ground, lying on her back and looking up at the sky as she drifted downwards. She could hear Sarah laughing, not far away, and smiled, happy for her. She knew that it wouldn't be long before Sarah started treating her distantly, coldly, as a tool to be used to better her own lot, but for the moment it was nice to have a friend, to have one person who acted natural around her.

Gracefully, she landed on her feet—or rather, on the bizarre, uncomfortable shoes that Sarah had given her, called _converse_. While they had been getting ready earlier Onagh had had fun, but now she wondered what she was doing in the tight, binding mortal's clothes. It wasn't as though it made a difference. Finvarra didn't love her, and he wasn't going to start to because she put on a new outfit. Certainly it had shocked and surprised him, but his apathy would return soon, if it hadn't already.

Even so, she was happier now than she had been in decades, perhaps centuries, because she was with him. She couldn't remember the last time they had been alone together, unless they were discussing politics. For every second of the too-short flight his arms had been around her. And he hadn't had to bring her tonight—the evening was obviously some game of his to help Jareth ensnare Sarah, but bringing her along probably hadn't been necessary and he had done it anyway. Onagh almost smiled.

'Perhaps they would rather we did not interrupt,' Finvarra said, coming up next to her, nodded towards Jareth and Sarah, who were sitting in the grass a little ways off.

'Probably,' she consented. Sarah was looking at her, so she forced a smile before turning to walk away; she was so tired of forcing herself to smile. Finvarra took her arm and pulled her off. Time to go back to Knockma, so that he could go off to play chess or ride with the Unseelie host, or find a human servant to amuse him, and so that she could wander back to her room to sit alone, in silence, waiting for forever to end.

'I do not feel like going back to the cold yet,' Finvarra told her. 'Do you mind if we stay here in the tropics for a while?'

'Not at all.' That was somewhat surprising. She hadn't been aware that the cold bothered him—after all, he was the High King of the Winter Court. She wasn't about to protest, though, if it meant a few more minutes in his company.

_I really am desperate, aren't I?_

For a little while they walked in silence. Onagh couldn't help wishing it was cooler out, herself—when the weather was warm it just made her feel even colder inside.

'You are not smiling,' Finvarra suddenly commented. Onagh glanced over at him.

'Neither are you.'

He shrugged. 'Sarah was laughing. I thought that maybe you would have had a good time, too.'

'I did have a good time,' she replied softly. 'It was...fun. I have not had fun in a very long time. I cannot remember the last time I did something like that... Thank you.' _Pathetic. Why not tell him you love him, too, and beg him to love you back?_

'Not fun enough to make you smile, though?' Onagh laughed. It was a harsh, bitter laugh, though, a laugh that scraped her throat and turned the corners of her mouth downwards.

'My lord Finvarra,' she said, 'I believe that I may have forgotten how to smile.' She looked away again. Too soft, too hard...she could never just be indifferent, the way he was with her. And she always had to be so honest with him.

They walked in silence for a while, and it struck Onagh that for the first time in ages they were talking about something besides politics.

'So why did you decide to do this tonight?' she asked conversationally; no need to wreck the few minutes she would have with him.

'Jareth wanted to do something to show Sarah what a wonderful world this is, to remind her why she loves magic. I suggested this, so here we are.'

'Well, I am sure she enjoyed it. You should probably have warned her not to wear such a fancy dress, though; it cannot have been easy to ride in it.'

'You seem to have dressed appropriately...did you know what we were going to do?'

'No...Sarah just thought it would be fun to lend me her clothes.'

'And cut your hair?'

Onagh shrugged. 'I saw no reason not to let her. It hardly matters how I look, and she had fun.'

Once again, the silence reigned. The moon was low on the horizon, the stars a scattering of jewels in the inky black sky. Onagh supposed that it was beautiful.

'You know,' Finvarra suddenly said, coming to a stop, 'I never wanted you to be unhappy.' Onagh said nothing. She didn't want to look him in the eye, afraid to get drawn into their enchanting depths, but the temptation was too strong to resist.

'I was talking to Jareth earlier,' he began, but then stopped, shaking his head. 'It is strange,' he continued after a moment, 'I feel as though I have not looked at you, really looked at you, in a very long time.'

'Well,' Onagh replied, trying to keep her voice from sounding choked, 'You are the High King. You have a lot to do.' Not that he ever did anything he didn't want to do.

'I did not realize how sad you were.'

'I am not sad,' she replied. 'I am a queen. I cannot let my emotions show on my face, or they will be taken advantage of.' As he had taken advantage of them.

'But they do show, my lady,' Finvarra whispered. And he lifted her face and kissed her.

And suddenly it didn't matter that she was dressed in constricting uncomfortable clothes, that her beautiful hair was all chopped off, that her face was covered in Sarah's coloured dirt, it didn't matter that he hadn't glanced twice at her in centuries, it didn't matter that he had a human girl waiting for him at home. All that mattered was that Finvarra was kissing her, holding her tightly to his chest, wanting her, at least for the moment, for the first time in so long.

She had forgotten. She had forgotten what it felt like when he touched her, really touched her; the way the world spun, the way everything seemed brighter, the way life seemed to flow into her from the world around.

They were on the ground, lying in the sweet smelling grass, and he was kissing her, he wanted her. Finvarra wanted her, at last. She felt his hands on her stomach, pulling aside her shirt.

And then it struck her how well he seemed to know the workings of human clothing. Of course. _It does not matter. He wants me. Nothing else matters_. But it did. It mattered very much. She thought of Sarah, rejecting the world she belonged in and running from the man she loved because he wouldn't treat her properly. Could she, Onagh, ever be courageous like that?

Gasping, she pushed Finvarra away.

'What is it?' he asked, sounding confused and slightly annoyed.

'We cannot do this.' She straightened her clothes, pulling farther back as he reached for her again.

'Why not? You are my wife.'

'No, Finvarra,' she replied. 'I am your queen. I am your consort. It has been a very long time since I have been your wife.'

'Well, I want you to be my wife again.'

'What, for the evening? It does not work that way, Finvarra. You ruled how it would be between us, and I did not fight it. I let you do whatever you pleased. But I am not your concubine. You want me now, because I dressed up in human clothes. But I am the queen, Finvarra, and I cannot dress like one of your human wenches in court.'

Finvarra sighed. 'Come here.'

'No.' Had he listened to a word she had said?

'I will not touch you,' he promised. 'I just want to talk to you. Come here.' And once again, the temptation, the chance to be near him, was too great. Cautiously, Onagh moved closer and he put his arms around her, pulling her into his lap, but his hands remained lightly on her waist and he did not kiss her again.

'Onagh,' he told her, and her name sounded beautiful on his lips. He hardly ever seemed to say it. 'I do not just want you because you are dressed like a human girl. The clothes just...surprised me. Made me look more closely at you. You are so much more beautiful than any human.'

'Then how do you explain the last few centuries?'

'Those girls do not matter, Onagh,' he told her, his lips skimming across her hair. She jerked away.

'They matter to me. And this is not going to happen. You do not love me, you never loved me, and I can accept that. But I will not sleep with you.'

'Onagh, Onagh,' Finvarra cried, 'whatever can you mean? The human girls...they were nothing but entertainment. You are the one I married, Onagh. You are the only woman I could ever love.' The words stabbed through her, a blade of ice that somehow managed to melt the defences around her already frozen heart. It was so hard to draw breath. How could she refuse him? She loved him. And now he was offering his love to her. She had to believe him, _needed_ to believe him.

'I never stopped wanting you,' he murmured. 'I just forgot that I did. And now I remember again.' Now he did kiss her, softly and gently, almost tentatively, and she couldn't push him away.

'The human girl at Knockma,' Onagh said when they broke apart and he pulled her to his chest.

'I will get rid of her.'

'And you will not find another pet in a week, when you grow bored with me again.'

'I promise, Onagh,' he swore. Onagh wanted to make him promise her that he would never chase a human again, but was afraid that he would refuse. _He does not have to say it now_, she thought to herself. _He will not. I will not let him. _

'I love you, Finvarra,' she finally whispered, the words that her heart screamed each long day and each lonely night but that she hadn't voiced in so long. He pulled her closer, kissing her gently, and then said what he had never said before, those words that she had spent so many centuries longing for.

'I love you too, Onagh,' he breathed, his voice as full of wonder as her heart. 'I love you. Never doubt it. Doubt thou the start are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar,' he murmured, 'but never doubt I love.'

Finvarra pulled her back down to the grass, but made no move to touch her. Instead he just held her, gently and lovingly, stroking her hair and kissing her eyelids, as the stars shone above them through the night.

_Well. A little more crack than usual in this chapter—obviously The Phantom of the Opera and Code Geass are a dangerous combination. Hope it didn't spoil the mood. And I hope you enjoyed it, because unfortunately I have an inconceivable amount of school work, so it'll be a while before the next chapter comes up. _

_See you next time, and thanks for reading!_


	19. Chapter 19

_Sorry this took so long. I am bogged down with school work, and I got distracted by Ouran High School Host Club of all things—definitely not my kind of thing—and ended up writing another fic for that fandom. Anyway, here is the new chapter. By the way, thanks for the reviews!  
_

* * *

_I am all you want and more,_

_Spun from myths and ancient lore,_

_My love will lift us by white wings,_

_And yes, I gave you everything._

**Chapter 19**

Jareth sat in silence and darkness. The sun had not yet risen, but he was not at all tired. He seemed to be waking earlier every day, because the early hours of the morning seemed to be the only time he could relax.

Even now that he was back home, during the day he was almost constantly preoccupied with the war. It was a great relief to be on good terms with Sarah again, but even that took tremendous effort. It was worth it—there was no doubt about that—but it bothered him not be able to relax about her. If he did so he knew that their relationship would fall apart again, as it had been doing periodically ever since they had first met, when she was an adolescent.

So instead of just being himself, being the person he'd been since the dawn of time, he tried, every minute, to understand her perspective. He wanted her to be happy, he really did, and had realized that in order for that to happen he would have to let her make some of the calls. In the weeks since he had taken her dragon riding he had been careful not to tell her what to do, because he knew that she hated it when he did, and had never made her stay with him unless he would actually be able to talk to her, pay attention to her. And at every turn he had asked her what she wanted. It had been hard, very hard. It was in his nature to take what he wanted, to put himself first. But he loved Sarah, and she was a human, not a faerie. So he was trying.

Sarah shifted in her sleep as the sun began to creep over the horizon and Jareth leaned back in his chair, watching her. Now was the only time he didn't have to worry about accommodating her, and didn't have to worry about the war, so he treasured the few hours of peace.

Suddenly, Jareth felt the distinctive presence of magic in the room. He tensed, ready to fight, but then recognised the signature and relaxed. Getting to his feet, he walked across to the mirror and sat down before it, and in a moment the face of a faerie materialized.

'What is it?' he whispered, not wanting to wake Sarah.

'You Grace, I have a message from His Majesty Finvarra. Something has happened, and it is imperative that you come to Knockma immediately. The details can only be discussed in person, for fear of Seelie spies.'

Jareth frowned, anxiety clawing at him. What had happened, and was it good news or bad news?

'Very well. Inform His Majesty that I shall arrive later today.'

'Yes, Your Grace,' the messenger replied before disappearing. The mirror shimmered, like water disturbed by a falling leaf, and a moment later revealed nothing but his own reflection. Jareth stared absentmindedly back at himself for a moment, then got to his feet and returned to Sarah's side. As he sat down she stirred gently, and her eyes fluttered open.

'Jareth?' she murmured, her face soft and heavy with lingering sleep, and he smiled at her.

'Forgive me, I did not mean to wake you.'

'It's okay,' she answered, yawning. She lay still for a few moments more, and then sighed and sat up. 'I suppose I should get up, shouldn't I?'

'You need not, if you are still tired.'

'No, no, I'm fine,' she told him, sliding to her feet. Her long white nightgown shimmered around her as she moved and Jareth began to lose focus as he watched her, desire stirring within him, but then he sighed and looked away.

'What's up?' Sarah asked, having heard him sigh.

'Nothing,' he answered flippantly, waving a hand.

'Tra la la,' Sarah replied, smiling, and turned to go to her wardrobe. Jareth chuckled with her, but his smile faded as he once again remembered that he would have to tell her that they were going to Knockma. What if she didn't want to come? She had told him that she was glad to be back home. He tried for a moment to tell himself that it was too dangerous to leave her alone and that what she wanted didn't matter, anyway, but although the first statement was true he knew that the second wasn't. He loved her; or course what she wanted mattered.

'Sarah,' Jareth began, then stopped.

'Yeah?'

'I need to go back to Knockma,' he told her. 'Something came up. And,' he faced away so she wouldn't see him cringe as he spoke the next words, 'I do not like leaving you here alone when the Seelie Court could attack at any minute, so would you mind coming?' The request stuck in his throat, but he managed to force it out. _There, that was not so hard, was it? _

'Sure,' Sarah answered. 'It would be kind of boring to stay here alone, anyway.'

'No doubt,' Jareth replied. He stared out the window for a moment, a sudden realization seeping through him. He had asked her what she wanted, and she had chosen what he wanted. And all of sudden everything was clear to him: if he tried to force her she would fight, but if he gave her the choice she would choose him. And that, he finally understood, was love.

'When do you have to go?' Sarah asked, breaking his reverie, and he smiled at her happily.

'Not right away; remember that Midir is coming, and I would like to speak with him first.'

'Can't he come to Knockma?'

'An old Seelie king in the High Unseelie Court, during wartime?'

'Yeah, I suppose that wouldn't really work,' Sarah replied, pulling on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a sweater. Jareth deliberately kept his face smooth, refusing to react to her choice of clothes. He no longer insisted that she wear appropriate clothing even in public, and he tried hard not to cringe when she didn't. He knew that she had grown up in the twenty-first century that that her old clothes made her feel comfortable, but wished that she would try to understand his point of view. In his world, even the most disreputable women wore skirts. For Sarah to wear pants was terribly shameful, terribly scandalous. His people would never respect her as long as she dressed like that. Besides that, it reflected badly on him. He was the king; the woman he chose to be with would have a great affect on his kingdom, and his citizens would never accept her as long as she continued to act like a human tart instead of like the lady she was. There were other noblewomen in his court, and it had begun to irk him that they never spoke to her; they treated her like a mistress instead of like a queen.

He said nothing, though. It was her choice, and all he could hope was that eventually she would come to understand.

'So, when's Midir getting here? It'll be cool to meet another one of your friends.'

'I do not know; he may be here already. Because he is here unofficially I will not be informed when he arrives. Shall we go and see if he is here? He will be waiting in the parlour near the throne room.'

'How do you know?'

'I have known him for four thousand years, Sarah,' he told her, smiling and holding the door open for her to step through.

_Four thousand years_. That was a long time, and Sarah knew that the term was not literal: among faeries, four thousand was the number used to describe eternity. The concept was incomprehensible to her, not to mention frightening, but she pushed these thoughts aside and smiled as she took Jareth's arm.

It had been nice to come back to the Goblin City, Sarah thought as they made their way through the halls. She missed Onagh, her one friend in Faerie, but there was a dark, shimmering power in Finvarra's Rath that made it impossible for her to relax. Even so, she didn't mind going back. She'd had a few weeks here to decompress, and was ready to return to the more interesting atmosphere at Knockma. The only thing she really minded was the fact that she wouldn't be able to see Jareth as often; as much as it had annoyed her when he had insisted that she remain with him constantly, now that he only kept her with him when they could actually talk she found that she missed him a lot.

On the other hand, she was excited to go because she wanted to find out how things were progressing between Onagh and Finvarra. She knew that things had changed that night they had all gone dragon riding—Sarah found herself smiling at the memory—but before the she had been able to get the full story the war had escalated, and Onagh hadn't been available to talk.

'They are here,' Jareth told her, smiling, as they reached the parlour. Everyone rose and bowed as the two of them entered the room, so it took her a moment to figure out who Midir was. Then Jareth led her towards a faerie whom she had never seen before, and warmly clasped his hand. Midir was tall, with curly golden hair and eyes as green as grass. His face was full of laughter and he was as beautiful as a summer day, and Sarah felt warmth spreading over her. Although she had never noticed it before, she suddenly realized that Jareth, Finvarra, Onagh and the other Unseelie fae she had met until now had emit a far colder, darker energy.

'Sarah, this is Midir,' Jareth told her happily. 'Midir, may I present Lady Sarah?'

'It is a pleasure to finally meet you,' Midir said, his face glowing as he smiled at her. 'I have heard so much about you. May I present my beloved wife, Lady Etain?'

As he spoke a beautiful lady stepped to Midir's side, leaning in to quickly kiss his cheek, and he put his arm around her waist. Sarah almost took a step back at the strength of the overwhelming atmosphere of love that descended over the two of them.

'I am delighted to meet you, Lady Sarah,' Etain said in a tinkling voice, and Sarah murmured her own greeting as she looked upon the first Seelie woman she had met. There was a crimson cloak of beautiful, curly fleece round her, fastened with a silver brooch coiled with lovely gold; her long-hooded tunic was of stiff, smooth, green silk embroidered with red gold, and there were wondrous animal brooches of gold and silver at her breast and on her shoulders. Her eyes were the colour of hyacinth, and she had two long tresses of golden hair. Each tress was a weaving of four twists with a globe at the end, and while Sarah was tempted to call her strawberry blond, she knew that such a commonplace adjective could never apply to this queen. She suddenly felt very plain.

'Midir, I just got a message from Finvarra; I have to go to Knockma later today,' Jareth was saying.

'That is all right. We will only stay a few hours, anyway,' Midir replied. 'Come, we should go and talk in private.'

'Yes, let us go to my private chambers. Sarah, why don't you stay here and get to know Lady Étain?'

'Alright,' Sarah replied, torn between being annoyed at having to relinquish Jareth's company and being happy for the opportunity to make another friend. Midir turned to Étain, taking her hands in his.

'I will see you in a few minutes, my love,' he said softly, and the romance in the air intensified. Sarah felt suddenly as though her mouth was coated with sugar, and she swallowed discreetly as Midir gently kissed Étain's cheek and reluctantly let her hands go. Sarah turned to look at Jareth, feeling silly; in the human world people were far more openly sexual than that, but she still felt awkward, as though she had witnessed something very intimate. Jareth smiled at her, clearly reading her thoughts. He dropped a light kiss on her head and then turned, leading Midir away. Sarah glanced at Étain, who was pouting after them, apparently missing her husband already.

_For God's sake, he's just going to another room for a couple of minutes. Is the scene really necessary?_ Sarah didn't voice her thoughts, though, because they didn't seem very polite. Instead she waited for her guest to stop her pretty sulking.

'Well, Lady Sarah, let us sit,' Étain finally said, going to sit down in a silken armchair, and Sarah took a seat on the sofa to her side, frowning slightly. There was something about Étain that seemed strange to her. Although in behaviour and appearance she was no different from the other faeries Sarah had met, there was something about her...her _essence_ that seemed not to fit. It wasn't simply that she was a Seelie faerie, because Sarah hadn't gotten the sense from Midir, but there was a vibe about Étain that was decidedly different.

'Shall we have a game of backgammon?'

'...alright,' Sarah replied, still trying to put her finger on what was different about Étain. The other woman smiled brightly and gestured to another noblewoman, who brought over a backgammon board. Sarah was confused for a moment when she saw the way the other ladies had clustered about them and the way they were perfectly willing to do Étain's bidding. They all lived in Jareth's court, and yet she had hardly exchanged two words with any of them in all the time she'd been here, and they generally didn't pay any attention to her. She decided that they must have a natural aversion to humans.

'So can you tell me about the Seelie Court?' Sarah asked. 'I haven't seen much of Faerie yet. The only other place I've visited is Knockma.'

'Oh, the Summer Court is wonderful,' Étain told her brightly. 'It is so much lighter than the Winter Court, and warmer. The air always smells likes honey and apple blossoms, and the sun shines so cheerfully. The feel, the magic, is just lighter in general.'

Sarah nodded as they set up the pieces. She was slightly better at backgammon than she was at chess, but even so she had no doubt that she would lose the game. As she listened to Étain's cheerful descriptions of her home she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something _off_ about the queen.

'Lady Étain,' she finally said as they began to game, 'I'm sorry, I really don't want to be impolite, but I can't help asking something. It's strange, but you just _feel_ different to me than the other fae I've met. Once again, I don't want to be rude...but are you a faerie?' Étain laughed, and Sarah smiled in relief that she hadn't offended her.

'It is a long story,' she answered. 'I suppose that strictly speaking I am not of Faerie blood. I was born to a human, it is true. You see, Midir and I were destined to be together, of course, but then Fuamnach was jealous and she turned me into a butterfly and then I accidentally landed in my mother's—my human mother's—glass and she drank me and was impregnated, and then I was born as a human and married another man and Midir came to get me, of course, and he tricked my human husband and—but oh, it is too complicated. Someday I must tell you the full story, it is so very thrilling.'

Sarah shook her head, trying to follow. All she had understood was that Étain was actually human. But how was that possible? True, she had seemed different from the other faeries, but Sarah would never have guessed that she was actually human. Perplexed, she moved a piece and then glanced across the room, thinking, and found herself gazing into one of the many mirrors that seemed to be scattered everywhere she went Underground.

The enormous mirror reflected almost the whole room. Sarah gazed for a moment at the beautiful embellishments of the decor, feeling terribly lucky to be here in this magical place. Then she noticed something, though. All across the room beautiful people were lounging in the chairs. Goblins, faeries, elves and other races, all mixed together talking and laughing, all of them bright and beautiful or darkly splendid. The women in particular sparkled, their hair done in elaborate styles and their marvellous dresses woven of shimmering cloth of all colours. There was a woman in an armchair that looked almost like a throne, her golden hair shining in the light, her dress the colour of forest leaves at the height of summer and embroidered with golden threads that sparkled as she moved, who looked like a queen. Apart from Onagh, she was the most beautiful creature Sarah had ever laid eyes upon. And at her side, dressed in drab, everyday clothing, her hair falling unadorned down her back, sat a plain little girl.

They were both human. But there was no doubt which of them was more splendid, queenlier, which one of them belonged in Faerie. Sarah glanced around at the other people in the room, who smiled at Étain, laughed at her jokes and generally treated her with adoring respect, despite the fact that they all knew that they were at war with the Seelie Court, and suddenly felt horribly small and childish. Why hadn't she made more of an effort to integrate herself into Jareth's court? She gazed dejectedly back at herself for a long moment. She didn't look like a queen—she didn't even look like a lady. She had fit better into this setting back when she had still been a servant.

'Lady Sarah? It is your turn,' Étain said in her musical voice, and Sarah tried to force a smile as she turned back to the game, but her mind was far away. Very well; if she was going to live in Faerie then she would have to stop pretending that she was just here for a visit. She didn't want to be a human anymore; she had _never_ wanted to be human, had always yearned to be something more. Since she was a little girl she would play those fantasy games, dressing up in elaborate costumes and trying to make believe that she was somewhere, someone, special. And now she was, now she had a magical world to explore, and all she did was cling to humanity. What was wrong with her?

_Are you sure you want to live here forever?_ Sarah almost gasped aloud as the thought appeared in her mind. Was that what was wrong? Was she holding onto humanity because she was uncertain of her choice? Well, she did want to stay here. When misgivings rose again she firmly crushed them, resolving to prove to herself and to Jareth that she knew what she wanted.

Sarah hardly listened to Étain as the morning wore on. They finished the game, and then Étain sat back and asked one of the younger women to sing for them. Eventually someone called for Ziggy to come and entertain them with his miniature guitar, but Sarah let her mind wander instead of listening to the strange song about a starman waiting in the sky.

Jareth and Midir returned in time to join them for lunch, and Étain stopped in the middle of a sentence to take her husband's hand and stare in dreamy silence into his eyes. Jareth told Sarah that they would leave for Knockma in the early afternoon, and she nodded, still lost in thought.

After lunch she bid goodbye to Étain and Midir and hurried back to her room to get ready for the trip.

Jareth and Midir had talked for a long time, and not just about the war. Jareth had missed his friend, and was glad to see him again, if only for a few hours. He couldn't help feeling disappointed that Finvarra's summons had come the same day as the visit, and that Midir and Manannan couldn't come with him to Knockma; it would have been nice to have the four of them together again.

So it was only with reluctance that he bid Midir and Étain farewell. As they disappeared he stood in silence for a while as the curious warmth that emanated from the Seelie Fae faded, and then he sighed and turned on his heel, dematerialized with a shower of sparkles and reappearing in his room.

Sarah was there. Jareth stared at her for a moment, then glanced away, blinking, wondering if maybe some of the faerie dust had gotten in his eye. When he looked back, though, nothing had changed. She was standing watching him nonchalantly, and she was wearing an elaborate, beautiful, splendid, shimmering green gown. Somehow, in the space of a few minutes she had managed to make herself look like a lady of the court. Jareth wanted to just stand and appreciate how absolutely gorgeous she looked, but she started to speak and interrupted his moment.

'So are you ready to go?' she said, her voice very casual, and he realized that he wasn't supposed to comment.

'Yes, and I have already sent the servants ahead with our luggage. Are you ready?'

'Yes,' she answered, and then asked after a hesitant pause, 'Are Midir and Étain always like that? Always so...gooey?' He nodded and laughed.

'It can grow quite insufferable sometimes, I am afraid.'

'_We're_ not like that, are we?' she asked as she stepped forward to take his hand.

'I certainly hope not,' he replied with an exaggerated shudder, and a moment later they had disappeared.

Getting into Knockma was more complicated than usual because of the war, but he was so well-known there that it took only a few minutes.

'It is about time you got here,' were the first words Finvarra said when he saw them. He glanced at Sarah and raised an eyebrow when he saw how she was dressed, but didn't comment.

'I was talking with Midir,' Jareth explained. 'Now what happened?'

'A terribly horrible complication which I really do not feel like dealing with. How is Midir doing?'

'You have to deal with it anyway, Fin. And Midir is fine, he actually seems to be enjoying exile.'

'Yes, sometimes I consider banishing myself; it would be such an interesting experience. And do not call me _Fin_.'

'Excuse me,' Sarah interrupted. 'I hate to spoil your reunion, but is Onagh here?'

'Yes, she is here somewhere,' Finvarra said, looking down at her. 'Working. She works far more often than is good for her, but never listens to me when I tell her that. Perhaps you should try.'

'Well, I don't know much about Faerie wars,' Sarah replied, 'but if there's such a huge crisis that you needed Jareth to come ASAP then maybe working isn't all that ridiculous, is it?' Finvarra stared at her for a moment, and then looked quizzically over at Jareth, who shrugged, just as confused.

'It means As Soon As Possible,' a musical voice called out, and both of the king's faces cleared. Onagh stepped up beside Finvarra and smiled down at Sarah.

'So you two have arrived. How have you been, Jareth?'

'Stressed,' Jareth replied, and Finvarra sighed.

'You two are both hopeless; sometimes I think that neither of you will ever understand the concept of Hedonism.'

'Not during wartimes, at any rate,' Onagh told him. 'Now, everything is ready. You had better hurry.'

'What is it? What had happened?' Jareth demanded, directing his question to the queen instead of the king this time.

'It will take too long to explain, but Finvarra needs your help.'

'I do not need help. I could do it alone if—'

'I am afraid that the two of you will have to go away for a few days,' Onagh continued, completely ignoring her husband. 'Do not worry, Jareth; I will watch your kingdom, and I will take care of Sarah, but if you do not go with Finvarra then we may lose the war. He can explain what happened once you get there.'

'When do we have to leave?' Jareth asked, and Finvarra drew an ornate silver pocket watch to check the time.

'Unfortunately,' he said with a sigh, 'we should have left an hour ago, and the longer we wait the more arduous our task will be. We need to go immediately.'

There was no time to prepare. Jareth nodded grimly, wishing that he'd had more warning but understanding that such things couldn't be communicated by insecure magical means. He turned to look down at Sarah, who was watching with him with something akin to panic in her eyes.

'Do not worry,' he said, quietly enough that Finvarra and Onagh wouldn't be able to hear his words. 'I will be fine, as long are you are safe.'

'It's just so sudden,' she whispered stepping closer to him, and he knew exactly what she meant. It would be hard to be apart from her for so long, and the lack of warning only made it harder. If they had had time to prepare, to get used to the idea, then it would be easier, but as it was...

'Just stay safe,' he told her. 'I could not go on living if anything happened to you.' For a moment they just stared into each other's eyes, unspoken sentiments passing between them, and then Jareth gently lifted her face and kissed her goodbye. 'I have to go,' he murmured.

'I love you,' Sarah whispered, and Jareth pulled her against him, holding her close for a moment.

'I know,' he said softly, and then sighed and pushed her away, turning to tell Finvarra that he was ready to go. His words stopped in his throat, though, at the scene before him.

Finvarra and Onagh were standing close together, facing one another, their hands loosely clasped between them. They were speaking in low voices and Jareth couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew that it had nothing to do with the war. Somehow, although the air was not nearly as saturated with love and adoration, this exchange felt far more intimate to Jareth than anything he had witnessed between Midir and Étain. Finvarra lowered his head so that his brow touched hers and for a moment they just stood there in silence, both of their eyes closed. Then Finvarra said something, too quietly to be discernable, and Onagh nodded. When he leaned in to kiss her, though, she turned her face away at the last moment so that his lips brushed her cheek.

Frowning, obviously displeased, Finvarra turned to Jareth.

'We need to go.'

'Yes. Be safe, Sarah,' Jareth said. He touched Sarah's hand with his for a moment, and then let Finvarra take him lightly by the arm and pull him through time and space, off to their mysterious mission.

With Jareth gone, and the knowledge that she wouldn't see him again for days, Sarah felt strangely empty. Her dependence on him seemed to grow each day, and as time passed she was realizing more and more that she simply could not live without him.

'Sarah, are you all right?' Onagh asked, interrupting her thoughts. 'They will be all right. It is not a particularly dangerous task.'

'Yeah, I'm alright,' Sarah replied. 'I just...it's weird. Anyway, how have you been? I haven't spoken to you in ages.'

'Ages? It has only been a few weeks,' Onagh answered, taking her arm and leading her away.

'Yeah, well, we're not all four thousand years old.'

'I have been very busy, busier than I have been in centuries...perhaps busier than I have ever been. Now that Finvarra is gone I will have twice as much to do, but I have a few minutes of respite now.'

'Twice as much to do? Really? But doesn't Finvarra never actually do any work?'

'He likes to pretend that he does not,' Onagh told her, smiling slightly, 'but he would not have remained High King for long if he did nothing but play. By the way, you look lovely.'

'Thank you,' Sarah replied, flushing slightly, as they entered a room where dozens of ladies in waiting sat sewing and talking. 'There was a time when I would have given anything to be able to dress like this, live like this. Well, almost anything,' she amended, thinking suddenly of her little brother, the little brother she had so adored. Where was he now? She had had to run from him because his wide, mismatched eyes had all but driven her mad, but now that Jareth no longer haunted her, couldn't she see him again? He would be eight or nine by now, depending on the time lapse between the worlds...

'Sarah?'

'Sorry, I was lost in thought.' Sarah pushed the thoughts of her brother away; she would discuss it with Jareth later. For now she was just glad, as always, to have a friend. Smiling, she looked properly at Onagh for the first time since her arrival.

There was no great difference in the faerie queen's appearance, no tangible change that could be singled out; and yet, there was no doubt that Onagh looked perceivably different. Her eyes were still the same deep blue, but now instead of being hard and cold they sparkled with light and life. The gold of her hair was no more pure, but it shimmered in the light with a health and attention that had lacked before. Her body, still flawless, incomparable, was now relaxed instead of stiff, and her perfect grace seemed to flow like pure water unhindered by stone in the riverbed. Most of all, though, although her features were no more delicate, Onagh's face glowed with a discernable happiness, shone with an internal light. Somehow, however impossible it might seem, she looked even more beautiful than she had.

'So Onagh,' Sarah began, grinning. 'We haven't really spoken since that night with the dragons...but what's going on with you and Finvarra?' Onagh shrugged.

'He has apparently decided that he wants me again,' she said, completely casually. 'What about you and Jareth? I was so busy during those last few days you spent here so I could not judge very well, but he seemed to be giving you more freedom. Did that continue when you returned home?'

'Yeah, he's being much nicer to me. He seems to have figured out that I love him already, that he doesn't have to control me all the time.' Was this it, then? she thought to herself. Would the fights end, would she finally get the happily ever after she had dreamed of so long, the fairytale dream that had proven so elusive? Ever after. Forever. Eternity. Sarah shivered at the thought.

'Hey,' she said, frowning as she realized that Onagh had succeeded in changing the subject and making her talk about herself. 'That's not fair, I've been complaining to you about Jareth for ages. I want to hear about you and Finvarra.' Onagh laughed, and Sarah glowered at her. 'I have a question,' she said. 'Why did you pull away from him earlier?' Onagh's face sobered.

'You noticed that, did you?'

'Yeah, and I just wondered... I mean, you love him, don't you? I don't understand why,' she added with a smile, 'but you do. And apparently he's figured out that he loves you. So why do you fight him? It's like your positions have switched.'

'No, Sarah, it is not that.' Onagh sat thoughtfully for a moment, and then sighed. 'Forgive me,' she said, 'I am just not used to having anyone to talk to about this. You are right, I love him, and he says that he loves me. But that does not erase all of the centuries, the millennia, when he pursued his own pleasure with no thought to how his actions might affect me. Can I forgive him? Yes. But he needs to earn my forgiveness, Sarah. He courted me once before, so long ago that I cannot give number to the time that has passed since then. But I fell for him, made his job far too easy, and he forgot me. Not this time, though, Sarah. When he proves that he can love me, can be faithful to me, can stay with me, then I will not pull away. But a few sugared words will not win me back.' Onagh paused for a moment, her eyes closed, but then she opened them and smiled, and Sarah could tell that she was glad to have had someone to tell.

'You are so strong, Onagh,' she murmured, and suddenly felt very weak in comparison. Jareth had abused her, perhaps not for as long or in the same way, but he had done so nonetheless. She had fought him, it was true, but all it had taken was, as Onagh had put it, a few sugared words to convince her to fall back into his arms, time and time again. Had she made the right choice? Should she be more careful, make certain that he would respect her before she surrendered herself to him again.

On the other hand, wasn't she certain? He had finally begun to treat her the way she had always imagined he would. He was romantic, playful, and always caring. He didn't try to control her as he had before, and even when she did things that displeased him he said nothing. Sarah had asked people in the city what kind of a king he was and they had all assured her that dark though he may be, he was good and fairly just. She hadn't discussed with him the episode with the torture, but had come to the conclusion that it had been just that—an episode, a one-time event. Since then she had never seen him demonstrate such cruelty. No, there was nothing left to worry about. She loved him, and there was no reason to fight. No reason not to stay with him for eternity.

At the thought, though, a slippery anxiety came over her. Eternity. She wanted to spend forever with Jareth, she wanted every moment, every kiss, to last a lifetime. The question was, could she do it? Could she, a human, stand to live for all eternity?

'So you know how long they'll be gone, Onagh?'

'Until the threat subsides. It should not be long, but I will be quite busy so I will not be able to spend much time with you, I am afraid.'

'That's alright,' Sarah answered. She forced herself to relax and leaned back in her seat. These were thoughts for another time. Jareth would be fine, and would come back to her soon, and she would be waiting. Until then she would read in the library, and talk with the other ladies, and think of him, and keep her heart safe for his return.

***

The night did not fall. It spread slowly, seeming to push the light from the sky, a black, comforting menace with all of the promise of mystery and all of the security of predictability. Darkness was the same, every night, that subtle inscrutability that sharpened, heightened each sensation, and gently stirred the depths of imagination.

As night-time softly and gently unfurled its splendour that evening, Jareth finally stirred from the magic circle he'd drawn early in the golden afternoon. He was stiff from standing still so long and exhausted from the magic he'd had to work, but as the night set in, tremulous and tender, he was able to relax. Slowly, he began to make his way to the meeting place. Finvarra was already there when he arrived, standing looking up at the star-scattered sky.

'You are certain that we can stop for the night?' Jareth asked, and his friend nodded vaguely.

'Seelie power is weaker after dark, and this is already a huge undertaking for them.'

'Yes; Belenus has not been awakened in more than a thousand years.'

'If they succeed, though, the results will be disastrous,' Finvarra sighed, reaching up to press a hand to his pale brow. Jareth nodded, and turned to face the volcano around which they had spent the day weaving spells that would hopefully contain its power.

'They will not succeed,' he said, sinking to the ground.

'No; but we should stay awake tonight, just in case something goes wrong.'

There were no trees around, and the sky seemed to stretch on forever above them. How many times had Jareth and Finvarra ridden beneath the stars together? If the Seelie Court won, would their long friendship be cut short? How could the world go on without night, without winter, without darkness? How could light exist without its opposite?

'Do you remember,' Finvarra said softly, walking up to Jareth's side, his thoughts clearly mirroring his friend's, 'the first time we rode together?'

'Yes,' Jareth answered. 'There was no moon that night, either. It was a long time ago.'

'The world was a better place then. Nature, our world and the human world, and light and dark were in balance. There was no reason, no logic, everything just...was. That is how it should be. But now humans are destroying their world with their machines and their ambition, and the Seelie Court is destroying ours with this war. Will nothing ever be right again, Jareth?'

'There are good things yet, Finvarra,' Jareth murmured. With a flick of his fingers he conjured a crystal, slowly trailing the view within along the more wondrous sights of both worlds. Fantastic hidden gardens overflowing with noctiflora, shimmering in the starlight; great, towering icebergs of purple, blue and silver, pure and untainted by human hands; flocks of winged fairies, Seelie and Unseelie together, fluttering through the branches of fir trees; swirling mist from thundering waterfalls sparkling above the depths of sapphire mountain pools; flocks of multicoloured birds wheeling through the cerulean sky in some distant place where daylight still shone; beautiful beasts from both worlds, sleek black panthers and splendid snow-white unicorns with spiralling silver horns; all of the things that both of them loved, both of them admired, both of them would hate to see disappear.

'Is this was we are fighting for?' Finvarra asked, his fingers brushing Jareth's as he reached out to take the crystal. He gazed into it for a moment, then lifted it up and let it drift off on the breeze, to share the wonders it contained with the world.

'We are fighting for a lot of things. Magic, the world, our people, ourselves, nature, Sarah and Onagh...each other...' For a long moment Jareth stared out at the volcano they guarded, and then he looked up at his friend. 'Things will be right again, Fin. We will make them right, together. When we two work in tandem there is no fight we cannot win.'

Finvarra laughed and sank to the ground behind Jareth. The cool night air caressed them and Jareth leaned back against him, tilting his head to look up at the sky. All was silent, all was calm, and despite the war he felt at peace. Nothing stayed the same forever; these troubles did nothing but add flavour, colour, to what would otherwise be a monotonous eternity, and with time they would fade and only what mattered most would remain. Back to back, supporting one another as always, Jareth and Finvarra sat in silence as the tenderness of darkness shimmered through the night.

***

It was two weeks before Jareth and Finvarra returned, tired but satisfied, from their mission. Sarah had spent the time speaking with Onagh, when she wasn't too busy, and exploring Knockma to her heart's content. It was certainly darker, more ominous, than the Castle beyond the Goblin City, but still beautiful in a mysterious and almost gothic way. She was therefore sad to leave and wished that she and Jareth could have stayed a few days longer, but knew that it was important to get back to their own kingdom. Jareth offered to let her stay on her own if she wanted to, but after spending two weeks away from him she couldn't bear to willingly part from his company.

'I missed you,' she said softly as they left Finvarra's Rath.

'And I you, Precious,' he replied, and she smiled; he never called her _his_ precious, or anything else, anymore, which she appreciated, although sometimes she missed it in spite of herself.

'Yes, Beloved, I missed you,' he continued as he took her hand on the moor outside and pulled her through magic, all the way home to their castle. 'And I also realized something.' He paused for a moment until she looked up at him.

'What is it?'

'You came to Faerie at a very inconvenient time, because of the war. I will not be able to be with you as much as I would like, and you will not have as much freedom as you should, because of the danger. It may seem like the war will never end, because you have no perception of how time works here.'

Sarah wanted desperately to contradict him, but she couldn't ignore the feelings she had over the last few weeks.

'I won't lie, Jareth,' she answered quietly. 'I love you. But you're right, I don't understand the way time works. The idea of eternity...sometimes I think that it will drive me mad.'

'That is why I want you to remember this, to remember much I care for you. So I have a gift for you, Sarah, if you will accept it.' Silently, Jareth conjured a crystal and held it out to her.

'What is it?' Sarah asked softly, smiling.

'A crystal,' he answered, pressing it into her hands. 'Nothing more. But if you turn it this way, it will show you your dreams.'

Fingers trembling, Sarah turned the crystal. And suddenly they no longer stood in the dark stone hall. Instead, they found themselves in a vast room where the light was uncertain, reflecting off of crystal walls and shining gently from shimmering chandeliers. Amid the waves of intoxicating beauty Sarah forgot her troubles, her misgivings, and simply took her king's hand when he offered it. Whether or not she could spend eternity here, at moment she knew that she wanted to. Together, all alone, they danced their way down the pathways of the dream as the music swirled around them.

'_It's such a sad love,  
Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel,  
Open and closed within your eyes,  
I'll place the sky within your eyes…_

_There's such a fooled heart,  
Beating so fast in search of new dreams,  
A love that will last within your heart,  
I'll place the moon within your heart…  
_  
_As the pain sweeps through  
Makes no sense for you,  
Every thrill has gone  
Wasn't too much fun at all,  
But I'll be there for you…  
As the world falls down…'_

* * *

_Unbelievable. I don't think that Jareth did a single evil thing in this whole chapter. Obviously fluffy anime isn't good for me. Anyway, I know that the narrative is a bit choppy; sorry about that. Hopefully the next one will be better.  
_

_The description of Etain is taken from the old Middle Irish tale, _Togail Bruidne Dá Derga_. I think I might have mentioned this earlier, but you should all read _The Wooing of Étain_, which is a beautiful old Irish myth about Midir and Étain. Personally I prefer the version where they end up together...obviously. _

_Belenus is an Irish sun and fire god. _

_Thanks for reading, and I always appreciate reviews! _


	20. Chapter 20

_Thanks for the reviews and such! Just a few notes on the following chapter:_

_Amaranths are a symbol of eternity. Irises symbolise the path between the divine and the earthly._

_I try to show Sarah's emotional progression, but I may not have succeeded, so if anyone wants an explanation just ask._

_I hope you enjoy it :-)_

* * *

_And now it's time to know the cost:_

_Eternity among my host_

_And you shall jump to my command_

_And you shall stoop to kiss my hand._

**Chapter 20**

As time wore on, Sarah began going to bed earlier and earlier and getting up later and later. Because Jareth spent almost all day every day working, either locked in his study, down in the catacombs working magic, off defending the border or meeting with his generals and the other monarchs, Sarah had little choice but to spend her time with the other noblewomen. Before long her days began to take on a dejecting monotony. She still loved living Underground, there was no doubt about that. She had the life that she had always fantasized about, even though she couldn't travel because of the war, and she still felt a thrill of excitement each time she saw a centaur or felt the power of magic pulsing in the air around her. Every day she wondered at her good fortune, tried to figure out what she had done to deserve this fairy tale. Indeed, Sarah was prepared to spend a lifetime in Faerie; that wasn't the problem.

'Something is wrong, Sarah,' Jareth said one evening, watching her carefully. It wasn't a question.

'What do you mean?' She asked him. When she was with Jareth she could usually forget her trepidations.

'I can tell,' he replied, coming towards her and gently taking her face in his hands. It was night-time, and the light from a full moon was shining in through the casement. Sarah sighed and pulled away, going over to lie down in bed.

'Remember what you told me that day we got back from Knockma?'

'About how this wasn't the best time for you to arrive, because the war would hold you down?'

'Yes.' Sarah paused, breathing deeply, and then added in a small voice, 'Jareth, I love you, but I'm starting to realize how long this war could take.'

'It does not matter how long it takes,' Jareth replied. 'We do have eternity, after all.' He smiled, but Sarah sighed again and rolled over, facing away from him.

'That's what worries me,' she whispered, so quietly that she wasn't sure if she'd actually said it aloud or not. A few seconds passed, and then she heard him come up behind her and felt his tender hands stroking her hair.

'_It's only forever_,' he sang softly. '_It's not long at all..._'

At his words, Sarah went cold. She tried to respond, tried to beg him to speak the words to comfort her, but her lungs felt constricted and she could not talk. Because at that simple phrase Sarah had finally understood what had been plaguing her.

She was fully prepared to spend a lifetime with Jareth; what she wasn't prepared to do was spend Eternity in Faerie.

* * *

From then on Sarah threw herself wildly into life Underground. She got permission to ride unicorns and even a centaur whom she'd befriended, feverishly explored the corridors of the castle and the meandering paths of the garden, and even ventured into the Labyrinth. But although the sights and feelings still thrilled her, the joys were tainted because while she was reminded each day of all the reasons she loved magic, the weight of eternity seemed to crush down on her at all times. These things, this magic, would last forever; but she was human, and as much as she loved this world, she was beginning to realize that she did not, in fact, belong there.

Once, when Sarah was walking in the garden admiring the emerald grass showing beneath the melting snow, she came across a flowerbed where, six months earlier, she had sat with Jareth in lazy relaxation to watch the golden afternoon drift past, back before the war, before she had run away, before doubt. Back when she had wanted every kiss, every touch, every moment to last forever, and hadn't had to worry about what that actually meant.

A wave of nostalgia washed over her, and she sank down onto a low bench. The flowerbed was still scattered with a thin layer of snow, but the same flowers she had admired so many months ago still stood in full bloom, because in Faerie flowers lived and blossomed all through the winter, and never died. Tremulously, Sarah reached a finger out to touch the frosty, frozen beauty of a scarlet amaranth, and remembering the simple beauty of an earthly iris, which lasted only for a season, so much more beautiful for its brevity. Because beauty that is fleeting is far more precious than that which lasts forever. Youth that never ages is hardly youth at all, and beauty, however marvellous, is in no way exceptional if it never withers. Can life that lasts forever be called _life_ at all?

Suddenly, everything that Sarah had loved about Faerie seemed to pale and lose its value, and the immortal, unfading wonders that she had once longed for seemed harshly fake and entirely worthless, for she had realized that her own world, for all its decadence, was far more valuable. It was the ephemeral that was truly precious, and perhaps, she realised sadly, what had truly caused her to admire and love Faerie was not the sense that she belonged there, but the fact that she never would: the unconscious knowledge that at least for her, the wonders of the Underground would not be forever. Could she love it as much now that it would be? Could she love it at all?

Sarah got abruptly to her feet, turning her eyes from the blood-red amaranth, and marched back towards the castle. She shut herself in her room, trying to escape from every reminder of her fate, but everywhere she looked she was reminded that here, in the land of all her fantasies, she was doomed to live, forever young with the man she loved, for all eternity.

A mirthless laugh broke through Sarah's lips at the irony of that thought. _Doomed_. Doomed to a dream that would never end. That was what Jareth had promised her, wasn't it? The only problem was that it lacked one essential quality: what made dreams wonderful was that eventually, you always woke up.

When Jareth walked in later that day it was to find Sarah curled on her side in bed, her eyes squeezed shut against unseen terrors. Dropping the scrolls he held to the ground, he rushed to her side.

'Sarah! Sarah, beloved, what is it?'

Starting, she rolled over to look at him, vainly trying to mask her emotions.

'I'm just tired...' she started, the lie hanging feebly in the air between them, and Jareth knelt on the bed and drew her into his arms, his heart crying out in pain and confusion. He had known that there was something plaguing her, but had decided not to press her, preferring to let her tell him when she was ready. This was going too far, though. He wanted, needed, to help her, but didn't know how.

'Sarah, will you not talk to me?' She didn't respond, pressing her face to his shoulder and clutching him tightly. For a long time he held her, stroking her hair and whispering comforts in her ear. This couldn't just be the war; there was no way the boredom and exasperation were leaving her in this state. What else could it be, though? To him, everything else seemed perfect. Could he have unwittingly done something to upset her? He had been trying so hard to see things from her perspective, but maybe he had misjudged something.

'Sarah,' he finally asked, 'have I done something wrong? If I have then you must tell me.'

'No, no,' Sarah replied hurriedly, pulling back. 'You've been perfect, Jareth. Everything is perfect.' Somehow, though, the last word she spoke had a bitter edge to it.

'Is it just the war?' he asked, although he knew that it couldn't be. He brushed his fingertips across her cheek, trying to communicate, trying to understand. When he had been mistreating her—and he realized now that he had been—she had been fine, content, much of the time, and even when she had run away it had been because she had seen him hurting someone else. But now that he was treating her properly—or at least trying to, and according to her words succeeding—she had fallen into a depression.

'Sarah, dearest, how can I help you? What should I do?' he practically begging, holding tightly to her hands. He felt that a wall had come up between them, and he couldn't break through. He wanted to reach her, to comfort her, but couldn't. For a long moment the silence reigned. Then, finally, she spoke.

'No, Jareth. Don't worry, everything is fine. I...I want the war to end. I want to see you more often, and I hate the fact that you're in danger all the time.' She didn't look him in the eyes as she spoke, but when she had finished she finally looked up at him and her eyes shone with determination. 'I love you,' she told him, and his heart melted.

'It is Beltane in three weeks,' he murmured, pulling her close again. 'The war will stop then, at least for a time.' Sarah leaned into his arms, forcing herself to relax. It was easier, when she was with him, because she really did love him. It struck her as ironic that now that things were perfect with Jareth she was unhappy, whereas before, when he had been treating her so terribly, she had still idealized this world. Then, Faerie had been perfect and he had been the problem, and now he was perfect and the world was the problem.

That was immaterial, though; the conversation with Jareth had shown her that. Her eyes pooled with tears at his concern and sincerity and she knew that, for his sake if not hers, she would have to learn to be happy in Faerie forever. If she tried, and focused on the good parts, then surely her love for this world would return. She remembered when Jareth had taken her dragon riding: _that_ was the sort of thing she had to do. It had been a perfect reminder of everything she loved about Faerie. What would be best would be an adventure, of course, a quest to save magic, or destroy the Ring of Power, of rescue her stolen brother. That sort of important, exciting experience wouldn't be possible just yet, but perhaps if she immersed herself entirely in her life here, actively sought out adventure, then she could regain her love of magic and this world. If she couldn't, then she would be miserable for eternity.

It was her only hope, so she would have to try; and when she thought of Jareth she was determined to succeed, because she knew that her unhappiness would cause him pain, too.

* * *

Sarah did not believe in fate. She had toyed with the idea that she and Jareth were "meant to be", but didn't really believe it; they were together because they had fallen in love, not because of divine will or whatnot. When the very next day an opportunity to put her resolution to work presented itself, though, she couldn't help wondering at the existence of destiny.

She had only just awakened, although Jareth had been off for hours dealing with some crisis or other. It was Sarah's intention to go out immediately in search of some new joy to reignite her interest in magic, but before she could do so there was a knock at the door and, at her word, a servant entered.

'Letter for you, milady,' she said with a curtsy, handing Sarah an envelope of yellow parchment.

'Thank you,' Sarah replied; unlike the other nobles, she couldn't bring herself to treat the servants with lofty indifference, and besides, her excitement was rapidly growing. She had never gotten a letter here before, and her fingers were tremulously eager as she broke the clumsy seal and tugged the slip of paper from the envelope. She could not think what it might be, but the curiosity of it distracted her, for the merest of moments, from her troubles.

It was written in a scrawling, messy hand that Sarah didn't recognise, and the message was short:

_Meet us at the inn of the Sunken Ship at noon tomorrow. Tell the bartender your name and he'll give you further instructions. Come ALONE. _

There was no signature.

Sarah sat down slowly, the letter still clutched between her fingers. Who was it from? What could it mean? And more importantly, what should she do?

The first thing that sprang to mind was that it was a trap. Jareth had warned her that the Seelie Court would use her against him if they could, and this could easily be an attempt to lure her from safety. And even if that wasn't it, it would be dangerous for her to go down into the city by herself; what she should do was show the note to Jareth—at least then if something happened he would know where to look for her.

Sarah frowned, though, looking down at the message again. _Come alone_. Jareth would never agree to that; true, he had been giving her almost unlimited freedom lately, but in a case like this he would surely refuse on the grounds that it was too dangerous. And it _was_ too dangerous. She shouldn't even be considering going alone.

With an exasperated sigh Sarah got to her feet and walked to the window, opening it wide. What was wrong with her? _It was too dangerous? She should ask Jareth's permission?_ Just yesterday she had been longing for an adventure, and now that one had presented itself she cowered away. It was ridiculous. She wasn't a damsel in distress. No, she _would_ meet the mysterious correspondent tomorrow, and she wouldn't tell Jareth—he would at the very least send guards to watch from a distance, and she didn't want to scare off whoever had contacted her. She would leave a note for him somewhere he would find it if she did not return, but where it could not be obvious if he happened to return before she got back.

Already the tendrils of excitement were stealing through her. Maybe this, whatever it turned out to be, actually would revive her interest in Faerie; at the very least it was a distraction.

The next day Sarah descended with caution down into the Goblin City. The day was very warm, and the last of the snow had finally disappeared, but even so she wrapped herself in a cloak and hood; she didn't want to be recognized. It took a long time to find the inn she had been directed to, and when she finally did both her excitement and her uncertainty rose: it was a decrepit, ramshackle building in the lowest part of the city.

Without allowing herself to hesitate, though, Sarah pushed open the door and marched up to the bartender, who was a relatively tall goblin with a surprisingly friendly face.

'I'm Sarah,' she said, and before she could get another words out her nodded and answered. 'That's what I thought. You're here alone?'

'Yes,'

He went to the door and stared out for a long moment before turning back with a smile.

'Right this way,' he told her, leading her away from the first front room. Sarah grew increasingly nervous, but she had tucked a dagger under her cloak so she didn't falter, even as they descended an earthy staircase that left them far below the ground. Besides, by now she was far too curious to turn back.

At the bottom of the stairs there was a door, which the bartender gestured to.

'Through there,' he said, 'They're waiting for you.' He turned to go, and Sarah steeled herself and reached out to turn the knob. With one push she opened it wide, and as she looked past it a cry of surprise and joy burst through her lips: in the room beyond, Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus were waiting.

For a second Sarah couldn't move, immobilized by shock and delight, but the moment was broken when Ludo took a lumbering step forward and lifted her off her feet in an enormous bear hug.

"Sarah!' he roared happily, and she found herself laughing with true happiness.

'I missed you, too,' she replied, her voice weak and her eyes sparkling with tears.

'Art though well, my lady?' Sir Didymus asked, but she could hardly hear him over Ambrosius' yapping. Smiling past her tears, Sarah stepped forward and hugged them both. Finally, she turned to Hoggle, who was standing off to the side, and pulled him into a hug.

'I would kiss you,' she whispered, 'but I don't want to take the chance.'

'Probably a good idea,' he said gruffly, but he couldn't hide his wide grin.

'I'm really sorry I didn't come find you guys,' she said, guilt stealing over her. When she had first arrived Underground she had thought of them every day, but as time had worn on Jareth had seemed to dominate all of her mind and emotions, leaving no space for anything or anyone else.

'We've been trying to get into the city ever since we found out you were back,' Hoggle told her, 'but we couldn't manage to sneak past the border patrols into the kingdom until now. Sorry it took so long.'

'What do you mean?' Sarah laughed. 'Sneak in? Why…' she trailed off, her smile fading. 'Wait a minute. Hoggle, why did you have to sneak past the border?' He was silent, but Didymus answered for him.

'My fair lady, we have been in exile—'

'_What?!?_'

'—and I would have fought my way through thick and thin, past all the border patrols, to reach thy side…but my good brothers disagreed, and I could not abandon them,' he explained proudly, but she was in too much shock to praise his valour.

'Jareth…_exiled_ you?' she asked in a low voice. Hoggle, Didymus and Ambrosius looked uncomfortable, and Ludo looked slightly confused.

'Well, I wouldn't have wanted to stay, anyway,' Hoggle finally said. 'I was sick and tired of being a servant to that lousy excuse for a pompous rat.'

'Hey!' Sarah cried, frowning. 'Don't call him that.' Her indignation towards Jareth for banishing her friends was fading. 'Anyway, there was no need to sneak around. He would have welcomed you back.'

All four of the others blinked at her, dumbfounded, apparently at loss for words.

'Well, he would have…' she told them feebly, and Hoggle shrugged.

'Well, anyway, now that we're here you don't have to worry. Everything will be fine.'

It did, indeed, seem like that may be the case; surely their presence would help her regain her appreciation of this life. But how could they possibly have known of her dilemma?

'What do you mean?' she asked.

'Friends help Sarah!' Ludo explained, but unfortunately this wasn't very enlightening.

'I don't need help,' she told them, smiling in appreciation of their concern. 'I'm just glad to see you all again.'

'My lady,' cried Didymus, 'thou canst not expect us to allow thee to suffer. Now we are here, we shall spring thee from this prison and that foul tyrant shall hold thee captive no longer!' Ambrosius yapped loudly all through this speech, but Sarah just laughed at the misunderstanding.

'No, no,' she protested, 'you don't understand. I'm not a prisoner. I…I'm here of my own free will.'

'But…the Samhain Rite…we heard…and if not, then why…?' Hoggle asked uncertainly, sounding more and more confused.

'Yeah, but…'Sarah paused for a moment. How to explain? 'Originally yes, but that was Finvarra's fault, anyway, and now the spell is broken and I'm staying because I want to.'

'But…_why_?' Hoggle repeated incredulously; Sarah couldn't help wishing that they could reunite without discussing this, but since they had thought they were coming to rescue her, of course they wanted an explanation. She blushed, though, as she answered.

'I'm in love with Jareth,' she told them, and all four gaped at her. Understandable, considering the fact that the last time she had been in Faerie with them she had despised the King for kidnapping her brother and had been determined to thwart him.

'Pardon me?' Hoggle finally asked in a feeble voice.

'I know, it's a bit ironic. But I got stuck here because of the Samhain Rite, and then the two of us started actually getting to know each other and, well…one thing led to another. I'm not a fifteen-year-old girl anymore,' she added defensively. 'And why are you guys looking so upset about this? It's perfect! You won't be in exile anymore, and we can all live happily ever after.' Even as she spoke the classic fairytale ending, though, a tremor of terror at its meaning ran through her. _Ever after. Forever. Eternity._

'He doesn't love you, Sarah. He's manipulating you. He just wants to own you,' Hoggle told her resolutely, and his claims drove her other fears from her mind.

'Don't say that, Hoggle,' she snapped, and then clapped her hands to her mouth. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm really so happy to see you again. But that's not true—he does love me, very much. He loved me back then, too, it just took him a while to figure out how to show it properly.

There was a long silence.

'My lady,' Didymus finally piped up, 'I served His Highness loyally for years, and know him to be a relatively just king, and perhaps not undeserving of thy love.' He sounded only slightly dubious, but Hoggle snorted loudly. 'But in sooth,' the fox-terrier continued, 'art thou truly happy here?'

_Yes_, Sarah started to say, but the word caught in her throat; she wouldn't, _couldn't_, lie to her friends now, the first time she had seen them in so many years. Clearing her throat, she looked away.

'It's not his fault that I'm unhappy,' she informed them. 'He's perfect, and I love him entirely. It's just…' she sighed, and looked back at them with uncertain eyes.

'Thou art human, my lady,' Didymus told her softly. 'This is not thy world.'

How could they tell, so quickly, what was plaguing her?

'Just 'cause I'm human doesn't mean I can't be happy here,' she whispered. 'What about Etain?'

'Who?' Hoggle asked, but Didymus shook his head.

'Thou art not Queen Etain, my lady. Thou art different. If thou canst be happy here then thou shalst live forever with my blessing and friendship…but I am sworn to the Code of Chivalry, and cannot in good faith let thee remain here in misery. Tell us, gentle lady, in good sooth: would thou not prefer to return home, to thy true home?'

'I'm home when I'm with Jareth,' she breathed, but she spoke so quietly that she didn't think they could possibly have heard her. It hurt to have the truth laid bare like that. Why did they have to talk about this? Why couldn't they sit in happy companionship and compare the different stories of their experiences over the last few years? Why were they so determined to help her when all she wanted was to forget that she needed help?

'Sarah,' Hoggle said after a moment, 'let's not argue about this. It's your choice if you want to be with him; just promise us you'll be careful. Tell me the truth: if you did want to leave, would he let you?'

'Yes,' she replied, but despite her strong voice her heart was uncertain. _Would_ he let her go? 'Anyway, I don't want to leave.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Hoggle said dismissively, 'we're not here to argue with you. Just think about it: don't tie yourself down here unless you're certain, because before long it'll be too late to change your mind. Remember that time is passing more quickly in Faerie. You stay here and you'll lose more and more of your humanity...forever. But if that's your choice, then let's stop talkin' about it.'

_Don't say things like that!_ Sarah wanted to cry, for his words drove straight into the already widening rifts in her resolution. She was silent, though, and didn't stop Didymus from adding, 'Remember, my lady, our plan to save thee must be executed before Beltane, for come Mayday we must leave the kingdom.'

'You have to leave? Why? That only gives us three weeks together!'

'We cannot risk remaining here when the war pauses for the holiday, gentle lady, for fear of detection.'

'Don't be silly; I'll talk to Jareth and he'll pardon you in an instant.'

'No,' Hoggle said firmly, and it was Sarah's turn to look confused as she turned back to him, all hope of a happy reunion finally dying. 'Sarah, we've thought about you a lot, but we don't want anything to do with the Goblin King. It's been twenty years; we have new lives now.'

There was nothing to say; Sarah just nodded, trying to get a hold of her feelings. Of course they weren't going to drop everything for her pleasure, return to a land from which they had been exiled and a king who had suppressed and mistreated them. She realized now what incredible kindness they had shown by coming at all: after twenty years of no contact whatsoever they had risked their lives to seek her out and offer her help, when she had been too preoccupied with romance and dances and crystals to even ask Jareth what had happened to them. Sarah's cheeks burned as she realized how ungrateful she had been.

'You're right,' she said softly. 'Listen, guys. I want you to know how much I missed you, and how much I appreciate your coming here to see me. We can still write to each other, though, can't we? And can I come visit you, as long as I come without Jareth?'

'We can do better than write; we can talk to each other by mirror,' Hoggle told her, smiling again. 'But now let's forget all this nasty business. If you change your mind and want to leave, just let us know, because we want to help you. But for now tell us everything that's happened to you in the last twenty years.'

'Actually only seven years passed Aboveground,' she reminded them, and they all sat down, determined to have a proper reunion now. For the next two hours Sarah, Hoggle and Didymus took turns exchanging stories while Ambrosius barked appreciatively and Ludo cut in with an occasional heart-felt comment. Eventually, though, they all acknowledged the fact that Sarah would have to leave. She agreed to come back the next day, although she promised not to come if Jareth seemed to suspect anything, hugged them all one last time and ascended the staircase to exit back out into the street and make her way up towards the castle. She had a lot to think about.

The final hours of the visit had been very pleasant; her friends had all been well, and of course, being fae, none of them had changed much. Ludo was just as endearing, Didymus just as chivalrous and Hoggle just as cynical. They hadn't asked why she hadn't contacted them after the party they had thrown her when she'd first run the Labyrinth, probably assuming that the magic hadn't worked, and the said nothing to enlighten them; for all she knew, the mirror wouldn't have worked had she tried, and there was no need to tell them that she had deliberately tried to escape from magic.

The offer to help her "escape" was troublesome, though, and that they had so easily divined her worries was even more so. Until now, in spite of all her misgivings, she had never once considered leaving Faerie. In her mind there had been but too options: remain with Jareth and be miserable, or, if she managed to recapture her former love for magic, remain and be happy. The third choice was a disturbing addition, because although she didn't for a moment actually consider running, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she _should_. And when she thought it all through, she realized that the only thing preventing her from doing just that was her love for Jareth. She could not bear to be parted with him, and she could never hurt him like that; not again.

There was nothing, then, to think about. Her friends would make it easier for her to be happy Underground, and that was all.

Later that evening, Jareth asked her what she had done that day. She guessed that he knew that had been down to the city alone, but if he did he did not mention it.

'I visited the city,' she told him. She had done it before, but not often. 'It was nice, now that it's getting warmer. I think I'll go again tomorrow. It strikes me as silly that I've been here almost a year and I hardly know anything about your city.'

'Only a year,' Jareth replied, smiling. 'There is no rush; after all, you have eternity to explore it.'

Turning away, Sarah didn't respond; why did he have to say things like that?'

'I am sorry,' he added earnestly, though. 'I have distressed you. What is wrong?' He put his arms around her and she welcomed the comfort, trying to forget about the word _eternity_ and its implications. Who could have guessed that living a fairytale would be so disagreeable? There had been a time when that had been her greatest desire. Now, though, what did she want most? To be with Jareth, but to be human; to never die, but not to live forever. Her heart was full of contradictions.

'It's nothing, Jareth,' she sighed, and then asked impulsively, 'What do you want most in the world?'

'Most in the worlds?' he repeated, and the plural did not escape her notice. 'Why, your happiness, of course.' That wasn't the answer she wanted, though; she had hoped that he would name something she could give him, but instead he had chosen the one thing she couldn't.

And so Sarah's melancholy grew and grew. She went to see her old friends the next day, and almost every day thereafter, and while they cheered her up, they also always reminded her of the terrible third solution to her troubles. Even though they didn't renew their offers and kept their insults of Jareth to a minimum, just seeing them recalled to mind everything they had said upon their reunion. If they noticed her growing depression, though, their only response was to try harder to lift her spirits.

Jareth, too, noticed her demeanour, and tried with clearly growing concern to cheer her. All she wanted was to sit and talk to him, though, and all of his other attempts only reminded her of the magic which she was slowly coming to dread. Things that she would once have admired were now just reminders that, wondrous though they might at first appear, she was bound to spend forever among them.

Time passed. His desperation to please her grew, and her indifference to his efforts remained unchanged. Were they doomed to be unhappy? It seemed that nothing was ever well between them. And if that was so, then might it not be best to end it now, before the memory of their love could be tainted by long centuries of monotony and misery? Of course Sarah banished that thought, refused to consider it, but again and again it crept to the surface of her distraught mind, until she could ignore it no longer. Finally, two weeks after her friends' arrival, she brought it up with them.

'You guys,' she began, looking away, as they sat together in the warmth and darkness of friendship, 'do you remember what you said to me, two weeks ago? The first time I came here?'

'Yes,' Hoggle said guardedly, glancing at the other three, all of whom remained silent.

'You said that I couldn't be happy in Faerie. And...well, I've been thinking that, too. I was feeling that way even before you mentioned it. And I wonder, do you think that I'm unhappy because I'm _choosing_ to be unhappy? Like maybe if I tried a little harder everything could go back to being the way it was, the way I want it to be?'

'Fair lady,' Didymus replied, his face unusually serious, 'I have seen thy efforts. None can say that thou hast not tried.'

'You're miserable here, Sarah,' Hoggle added. 'We can see that. However,' he went on grudgingly, 'we can also see that you do love Jareth. So what it really comes down to is this: will you be more unhappy here, with him, or in your world, without him?'

'More unhappy,' Sarah repeated dejectedly. 'Are those my options? To be unhappy no matter what I choose? I can't just think of myself, too; it would tear him apart if I left again, and I can't do that to him.'

'You need to take care of your own happiness first, Sarah,' Hoggle replied. 'And I don't know if he loves you or not, but if he does, do you think he'll be happy if he has to spend eternity watching you live in misery?'

'Can you not say that word?' Sarah asked, wincing. 'It scares me.' She didn't answer his question out loud, but in her heart she knew the answer.

'We have a week, my lady,' Didymus told her. 'If thou desirest to flee...'

'I know,' she said quietly. It wasn't enough time, though. How ironic, that while she dreaded the interminable amount of time she seemed doomed to live, she longed for more time to make her decision. It she was to leave, though—and for the first time she fully accepted the fact that she might—then it would not be a flight of passion, like the last time; this time she would think it through and make the right choice.

The only thing holding her here was Jareth; Sarah knew that if she left now, everything else about Faerie would regain its dreamlike quality, and she could live out the rest of her life with the knowledge that magic did, in fact exist. There would probably be times when she would long for it, would resent her decision to flee, but that unattainability was part of what made magic and Faerie so attractive to humans.

She loved Jareth; she would miss him; she would never love anyone else, that much was certain; but when everything came falling down, would she in fact be happier in her own world? The simple answer was yes.

Sarah was back in the privacy in her room by the time she came to this conclusion, and there was nothing to stop her from falling into bed, surrendering to her tears, and immersing herself in the scent and memory of Jareth.

* * *

Jareth did not understand it. A week before Beltane he came home to find Sarah in bed, the sheets clutched tightly around her, the pillow damp and her face streaked with tears. His heart shattered as he beheld her, but there seemed to be nothing he could do: nothing he tried was having any effect, and she would not tell him what plagued her. Silently, he climbed into the bed and pulled her into his arms, trying to soothe her sleep.

This was not the happiness of love that he had expected. After all of his changes of heart—he had first wanted to give himself to her, then to own her, then to control her, and finally just to be with her—it seemed so strange that this last, which should have been best, was making them both so unhappy.

'Sarah, Sarah, most beloved Sarah,' he murmured to her sleeping figure, 'how I love you. Why can you not be happy?'

Somehow, though, the next morning everything changed. Instead of being melancholy, Sarah seemed determined at every turn to show him how much she loved him, but this left Jareth no less baffled. She laughed and talked incessantly, wanting always to be at his side, to touch his hand or just sit by and watch him. She asked if she could go with him to work, and of course he agreed, surprising though the request was, whenever it would not put her in danger. When asked why she desired it, though, her only reply was that she wanted to be with him as much as possible. And always, constantly, she told him she loved him.

It was, all in all, disturbing, and Jareth's only comfort was that Beltane was fast approaching, and when he didn't have to worry about the Seelie Court invading at any moment he would, hopefully, be able to figure out what was wrong, and how he could help.

When the day finally arrived, though, the last day he would have to work, Sarah did not stay with him. As he dealt with ambassadors and messengers and poured through old books of older magic he fretted, counting down the minutes until sundown, when Beltane would officially begin and all business would have to be put on hold. It seemed to take several eternities, but at last the time did arrive, and he hurried back to their room, desperate to see her.

She wasn't there, though. Jareth considered using a crystal to see where she was, but decided to let her be; she would probably be back within a few minutes, anyway. Still worrying, he sat down, his thoughts far away. There had to be something he could do; he could not bear to see her in such misery. Sarah was an essential part of his life, his soul, and his happiness could not be complete without hers. She was his sun, his moon, his evening star...upon remembering the pain he had felt when she had left him he cringed, his body curling unwillingly in on itself. He had to make her happy. Somehow, he would. Whatever he had been doing, however he had been acting, it had been wrong. Once again, he had thought that he was loving her properly, but he had been terribly mistaken. They could be happy together, though. He loved her, and he knew that she loved him. Whatever it took, he would ensure their happiness.

Agitated, Jareth got to his feet and paced through the apartment, still lost in thought. When he got to the bedroom, though, he stopped abruptly: on the bed, an envelope waited. Jareth curiously approached, saw his name on the front in Sarah's messy hand, and picked it up, growing ever more confused. He slit open the envelope, pulled the letter out, unfolded it. As he read, a pain so physical, so terrible, so indescribable seared through his body. The sun went out; his heart was torn from his chest; how he managed to read the whole letter Jareth couldn't say, but by the time he got to the closing he was curled on the floor, his head reeling, his every nerve alive with burning fire and bitter ice.

_Please forgive me. _

_Even though I will not live for eternity, I will still love you forever. _

_Sarah_

At those words the pain was too much, and Jareth lost consciousness, falling into darkness; but the agony followed him even there.


	21. Chapter 21

"_To be or not to be, that is the question..." –__Hamlet_

_Thanks for the reviews. I can't believe I'm up at 2:30 am posting this. _

* * *

_Time to face your eternal fate,_

_A timeline that will not abate,_

_For without me you can't survive_

_You're doomed to linger by my side._

**Chapter 21**

It was a bright, sunny spring day. Even though it was only the end of February, most of the snow had melted and the sky was a clear cerulean, and although it was sure that the cold weather would return, an atmosphere of joy reigned across the land.

In a small city near the sea a woman walked through the streets, and she was crying. Shimmering crystal teardrops slid down her cheeks, but her face was a marble mask of serenity. She was dressed strangely, in oversized breeches and a poet's shirt, but somehow still had the air of lady, a fallen queen. Her sadness felt ethereal, and those who passed her paused, a chill of sorrow passing through their hearts.

What pained Sarah most was that she hadn't been able to say goodbye to him.

Still weeping, she entered a shop and bought herself a pair of jeans, a top and a sweater. She put them on in the changing room, exited the store, bundled up the clothes that Hoggle, Didymus and Ludo had given her and placed them in the gutter, as the last tear fell from the sorrow-filled depths of her eyes.

This was it. She had started crying as she'd written the letter and hadn't stopped since, but this was the end. Those ill-fitting clothes were the last thing she had left from Faerie, and now that they were gone she had nothing to remind of Jareth. Her tears dried up, and as she walked away she knew that she would never cry again.

Nothing could hurt as much as this. If there was some way, any way, that would have let her stay with him she would have taken it, would have sacrificed anything to be happy with him, but she knew that if she had stayed she wouldn't be the only one who was destroyed: he, too, would have wasted away, dragged down by his attachment to her. Would he understand that? Would her letter make him see? She wondered if it would have been better to talk to him, to explain it in person, but the fact was that she had been afraid to.

Yes, she still feared him. She had thought that her fear had completely faded, but when she'd contemplated telling him her decision it had returned with a vengeance. No matter how nice he had been to her, no matter how reasonable and caring, she didn't want to think about how he would react when he found out that she'd left him again. What would it do to him? Would it destroy whatever goodness there was in him, turn him back into the tyrant who had used her, mistreated his citizens and tortured his prisoners? All she could hope was that it wouldn't, that he would understand. Would he come after her? She couldn't say.

If he did, though, then what? Would he drag her back, as he had last time? Or would she throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her with him? Either way, it would be best if he didn't come. She had very little money, though—just the little that her fae friends had managed to give her—which meant that once again she would have to rely on someone to shelter her. She couldn't go back to Adrian, of course, although she had decided to call to make sure he was all right. Asking her old friends—the ones she had missed so much, but so promptly forgotten when Jareth had taken over her mind—for help was also out of the question, because they'd ask too many questions she couldn't answer. No, Sarah had thought it through carefully during her last few days Underground, and had realized that there was only one person she could go to for help, one person who had a duty to her and who probably wouldn't know that she had been missing: her father.

It had been a long time since Sarah had seen the big suburban house, with its pristine white paneling and well-groomed potted plants. Outside the door she took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself. How long had it been since she had seen them? Toby must be nine by now. Would he even remember her? He hadn't even been five yet when she had left, running at eighteen from the memories that clung to the house like tar. This time, though, she didn't want to forget Faerie. Sarah reached out, her hand unstable, and rang the doorbell.

Immediately, the sound of a dog barking erupted from inside the house. She could tell that it wasn't Merlin, and wondered what had happened to her old pet; she hadn't been able to take him when she had moved out, and since she had stopped visiting, not long later, she hadn't heard anything about him. The few e-mails and phone calls she got from her father were never very informative. Before she could break from her reverie, though, the door opened and a skinny blond boy gazed out at her with mismatched eyes. Sarah's breath caught, her own eyes roving over every darling detail of his face, love and regret blossoming within her. The boy stared back for a long moment, shock enveloping his face.

'Sarah,' he said, halfway between a whisper and a gasp, and, his face suddenly alight with joy, he launched himself into her arms.

* * *

Gone. She was gone. She had left him. Again.

Jareth lay where he had fallen on the hard, unforgiving floor, his face pressed to the cold surface, all of the air above crushing down on him. She didn't love him. She was all he wanted in the worlds, all he needed, and she was gone, fled, heartlessly leaving him broken on the rocks of her scorn and betrayal.

_How could she do this to him?_ How the question burned. What cruelty did she possess to so utterly destroy someone who loved her more than life itself, how pitiless was her nature to allow her to claw his beating heart from his chest? The pain could not be reasoned with, though—it was too unbearable. It just _was_, as constant force within him. Had there ever been anything but pain? He was so cold. When she was with him he felt warm and alive, as he hadn't felt ever before, in all of his long thousands of years of life. But now the ice cracked and splintered, piercing his body and soul and mind and heart, encasing him in frigid winter air.

What pained him most, what hurt more than her abandonment, more than her betrayal, was the fact that she destroyed him with a tender, loving hand.

_Jareth,_ she had written, _I love you. Please remember that as you read this letter. I love you more than you can possibly know, which is why it hurts me so much to write what I have to write, to do what I have to do. It isn't for lack of love for you that I am doing this; no, Jareth, you have been perfect, far better to me than I have ever deserved. _

If that was the case, then why had she left? If she loved him, then what could possibly tear her from his side? The excuses, the reasoning, that followed...it was so hollow, almost as hollow as the chasm in his chest where his heart had once rested.

_But Jareth, I'm human. I've tried to escape from that, but I can't, and I can't be happy in Faerie. Living here is slowly destroying me—I know you've noticed it. I've been trying, Jareth, I really have, but I'm mortal, and humans aren't meant to live forever. The idea of eternity terrifies me—it makes magic seem like a curse instead of a blessing. Can you understand that? _

_There's a letter for Onagh on your desk. Could you please bring it to her? I promise that this is the last thing I will ask of you. I won't even ask you to remember me—that wouldn't be fair, would it? But oh, Jareth, this whole thing is unfair. I love you. We should be able to be together. We're worse off than Romeo and Juliet, though—their families were fighting, but our very natures are at war. _

Jareth stumbled to his feet, trying to force the memory of her treacherous words from his mind. The letter twisted between his fingers, he wanted to destroy it, burn it, tear it and desecrate it the way his heart had been destroyed, burned, torn, desecrated, and so much more, he need to cast it away, just holding it hurt him too much, perhaps if it was gone he could forget, the pain would never fade but maybe the source would become but a distant memory and he could float into a blissful pool of unidentifiable agony where he wouldn't have to think about HER, her cruel words of loving hate that managed, once again, to kill him and how many times could she break his heart before he actually died, and he was standing over the fire with the letter in hand—

But he couldn't. No matter what release it might offer him, he couldn't destroy the last thing she had given him. His face crumpling with loss and pain, Jareth clutched the paper, her last gift of torture, to his chest, his shoulders shaking, his mind a maze of tangled torment.

_A few days ago you told me that what you want most is for me to be happy. Well, I don't think that's possible, because I know that I can't be if I'm not with you. But Jareth, I can't be happy in Faerie, either, and I'm afraid that if I stay then our love will be tainted by the effects of living here. If I'm miserable, how can I love you? And how can you love me if I never smile, try desperately to hide from what I once called wonders, and slowly lose my humanity and personality to depression? I can hardly bear to leave you. You can see that tears have smudged the ink of my last letter, and I don't know if I shall ever stop crying, but sometimes the hardest choice is also the best one. This way, our love will be preserved, unblemished. When I think of you, I'll remember the good times. I won't be happy. But to be torn apart now, when everything is perfect, will be better than to remain together for an eternity of monotony. _

Was that it? Was that really the only thing that had made her choose to leave? If only she had confided him, given him a chance, he could have made it work. He would have done anything for her. Why would she think that humans couldn't be happy Underground? He could have shown her...

_This is the only way. I've tried to think of another solution, but there isn't one. I can't live in your world. I just can't. I don't know if I'll be able to live without you. I remember how much it pained me to leave you last time. I thought I might die from it, and this time I know it will hurt so much more. My plight is not what worries me, though—this is made so much harder because I know that it will hurt you, too. But there's nothing else I can do. I have to leave. _

She had to leave. Again. Once for the sake of her brother, once for a nameless prisoner in his dungeons; this time, she was doing it for herself. It made no sense, though...she had figured out by now that she couldn't be happy without him. So why not give this world a chance, the sliver of a chance? Was she that afraid? And if she was, then why hadn't she asked him for help? The worst part was yet to come, though, the part of her letter that had finally completed the destruction of his heart.

_Jareth, my love, there's so much more that I want to write, so much more that I want to tell you. So many things were left unsaid, undone. But I may lose my courage if I stay here any longer, so I'll just have to trust that you know how I feel, that you know how much I love you. _

_Please forgive me. _

_Even though I will not live for eternity, I will still love you forever. _

To whisper that she loved him even as she killed him. What cruelty could be worse than that?

'Sarah,' he breathed, the name slipping like blissful agony past his lips, 'must you betray me with a kiss?' For he remembered how she had kissed him that morning, her soft body pressing to his, her eyes depthless pools of love. And then, mere hours later, she had willingly hurt him in so deep, so irrevocable a way.

The pain was too great. Jareth found himself kneeling on the floor again, claws of ice raking over him, through him, into him. He could not bear this. He could feel his body shutting down, feel his emotions being cut off, the links severing as his unconscious tried desperately to save him from the torture that would surely kill him. It wouldn't work, though—it couldn't work. This was too much.

He needed her. And she needed him—she had said as much in her letter. She loved him, she had to love him, he could not bear to think that she did not. She loved him, admitted to needing him to be happy. Did she think that he would let her live a lifetime of pain and loneliness, as the letter had said she would? No. No, he would save them both; he would get her back.

The resolution brought some respite, and the pain lessened enough for him to get to his feet again, his head a-spin with lingering agony, an agony he knew would never fade, even when they were together again. He would forgive her, of course he would, but he could never forget, never forget that she would willingly do this to him. He had a goal, though, something to focus on. He would get her back. First he would find out how she had managed to get away without anyone seeing her flight, and then he would go after her, bring her back and make her see sense. It didn't matter how long it took.

As if on cue, a knock came at the door. Jareth hesitated a moment, composing himself, and then let his steward in.

'Excellent timing,' he told the man, trying to force a smile but finding himself unable. 'I will be going Aboveground within a few minutes, but I should be back before long. You can contact me in the usual manner.'

'Very good, my liege, but I must inform you that King Midir is here to see you.'

'Midir,' Jareth repeated, still struggling to get a hold of himself. Somehow the act of pretending that nothing was wrong, the semblance that the one person he loved above all else hadn't just abandoned him for the third time, had made it easier to bear the agony. 'Please send him up.'

How much time had passed since he had found the letter? Jareth couldn't say. It felt like at least a day had passed, but it must only have been a few hours, and he had been unconscious some of that time. He was better now, though; with his decision to go after her, his grief and pain had a focus, and he found it easier to handle. He would talk to his friend, but not explain the situation, and as soon as Midir was gone he would get to work. He would find her. Jareth's eyes slid closed. He ached for her, longed for her, needed her. The prospect of the reunion was both painful and comforting.

He turned around as Midir entered the room, bringing with him warmth, a golden sense of joy and the overpowering scent of spring, all of which burned at Jareth's body and soul, and he knew that the cold and dark of his Unseelie court must be a frozen blade assaulting his friend's Seelie essence.

'Midir,' he said, smiling, and was pleased to hear that this voice was even, unrevealing. None of his internal turmoil showed.

'Jareth!' Midir cried. 'What has happened?'

'Beg pardon?' Jareth replied, his brow furrowing.

'You cannot fool me Jareth, I have known you too long. Something has happened to upset you.' Jareth scowled, turning away again and changing the subject.

'What are your plans for Beltane?'

'I was going to take advantage of the cease-fire to visit Knockma,' Midir replied cautiously. 'But Jareth, what is wrong?' Jareth sighed. No matter how good an actor he fancied himself, Midir could obviously tell that something was wrong, so why maintain the façade?

'It is good that you are going to see Finvarra,' he said. 'You can tell him that I will be Aboveground for a while.'

'Aboveground? Why?' Midir asked, stepping forward and touching Jareth's cold hand with his warm one. Jareth didn't respond; he couldn't talk about it, not out loud, especially not with Midir, who had found his true love centuries ago and been with her ever since. Etain, like Sarah, was human…why had she found it so easy to stay? She must love Midir more that Sarah loved him.

No, he would not think that. She loved him, he knew she did, she had do, she had said it so many times and it was written in the letter and he had seen it in her eyes and felt it in her presence and he knew, he knew that she loved and he would find her and this was just a mistake, she was confused, she was unwell, but whatever she was she still loved him and—

'Jareth, what are you holding?' Jareth automatically crumpled the letter in his fist.

'Nothing. Just a letter. I have business to attend to in the human world.'

'What business?' The question was met with silence as Jareth struggled with the agony in his chest again; talking about it, even in this vague, roundabout way, made it somehow more real. 'Jareth,' Midir said softly, 'where is Sarah?'

Sarah. SARAH. That name, _her _name, opened the wound again, tore the superficial bindings he'd forced around it away and let the pain stream out again, all of the memories, each false word and false touch, every time she'd lied and said she loved him, and every time she'd rejected him, run from him, abandoned him and how could she do it AGAIN after all he'd done for her and the pain kept coming, he'd though that he'd shut it off but it just wouldn't go away and it never would, as long as she was gone, as long as she didn't love him he would live in agony for eternity…no. That wouldn't happen. She did love him, he knew she did. He would find her. He would get her back. And when he had her…he would make her his. Forever. For both their sakes.

Jareth lifted his head, breathing deeply.

'Do not worry, Midir. I will find her, and I will bring her back.'

'She left you.' Was it really necessary to voice it aloud? Wasn't it obvious what had happened? Why did they have to drag the words through the air and through his mind, why couldn't he be left in peace?

'Clearly.'

'And now you are going Aboveground to find her and bring her back.'

'Yes. It should not take long, though. I will come see you when I get back, and we can talk properly.'

'Jareth, I do not think you should go,' Midir said quietly, and Jareth turned to face him, not understanding.

'Go where?'

'Do not go to find her. Jareth…it is time that you just let her go. She has been causing you nothing but pain. Jareth, when you really love someone, sometimes you just have to let them go.'

'Midir…'

'No, Jareth, I am serious. Do not go.'

'You are being ridiculous, Midir,' Jareth snapped. 'I am going after her. This is a mistake. I will not force her to stay with me against her will, but I think that I deserve a conversation. And when we talk she will change her mind, I know she will. She loves me. Go to Knockma as you planned, and pay my actions no heed. This is the only way.'

'Jareth—'

'You are my friend, Midir. But you are hardly acting like one. I was glad for the opportunity to talk with you, but my pleasure in your company is fading. Go to Knockma, or go back to Etain and Manannan, but leave me alone. I have to go. The more time I waste here the most time she has to defend herself against me.' He glared at Midir, knowing full well that he was being unfair, but he couldn't sit around and casually discuss this. He had made up his mind. Midir sighed.

'I will go to Knockma, but I will tell Finvarra what you are doing and send him to change your mind.'

'And why would I listen to Finvarra?'

'You always listen to Finvarra.'

'What?' Jareth asked, scowling again. 'No, I do not. What are you talking about? Besides, Finvarra will not try to talk me out of this. He would help me. Unlike you.'

Midir sighed. 'Please think about what you are doing. But very well, I will let you go, and I will see you in a few days.'

Jareth nodded, but was silent as his friend disappeared. He wanted to apologize, to thank him for trying to help…but he couldn't. Not yet. Later, when he was safely back with _her_, then he would apologize.

For now, though, he had work to do. First he had to find out how she had gotten away; she must have had help, or she could never have sneaked off without him being informed. He would find out whoever had torn her from him and he would punish them. He would not torture them, because he knew that she did not like that; their fate would be quick and painless, but they would still pay for their treachery. And there was no doubt that he would find them.

* * *

Sarah sat at the kitchen table. Her blood was still pounding, the adrenaline of her flight still fresh in her veins, and she could hardly remain still. Tobias—apparently he refused to be called "Toby" anymore—was sitting next to her, his soft young hand gripping hers, his face a beacon of joy. He wasn't old enough or knowledgeable enough to resent her for her abandonment, knew only that the sister he could hardly remember, but whose memory was always a source of joy, had come back.

Her father and Karen were less understanding. They weren't angry with her, they weren't in any way unforgiving, but it was clear that they would want an explanation eventually, even though they didn't demand one immediately. Instead they had asked her about the years they had spent apart, and she haltingly filled in the gaps in the few e-mails and letters she had sent them. When they asked what had made her come back, though, she hadn't known what to say.

'I missed you,' she finally muttered, but they knew that wasn't the truth of the matter. Tobias—it would be very hard to start calling him that—wanted to tell her everything, show her everything, but she couldn't pay attention properly, couldn't think straight. Her muscles twitched with a curious mixture of exhaustion and suppressed energy. Finally, it was Karen who said that she looked worn out, suggested that she go to bed and that they could talk more later, and Sarah felt a rush of gratitude and affection.

'Your old room is mostly the same,' her stepmother told her, clearly trying not to make the reunion awkward, as she led her up the stairs. 'A few things have been moved out, some pictures taken down, but the furniture is the same. A wave of nostalgia hit Sarah as she entered the room from her childhood, but there was no sense of homecoming. _Home_. The word was meaningless now. Home was wherever Jareth was, but it was never in Faerie. Home did not exist.

'Thanks, she said to Karen, sitting down on the edge of the bed, shaping her face into a grateful smile. As long as she could focus on practicalities, as long as the sick excitement of the escape overwhelmed her, then she would be okay.

'No problem.' Karen went to the door, then paused and smiled tentatively back at her. 'It's, uh, good to have you back.' She closed the door.

Sarah took a deep breath. This was okay. She could handle this. The adrenaline was fading, but this was fine. She had made the right choice, the only choice. Now that she was alone all excitement, all energy, was draining out of her, though. But she would be strong, she could do this, she had to do this. Then she saw the mirror in the corner of the room, and it hit that she could never see Jareth again.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

'Sarah…'

The voice seemed to come from a long way away. Sarah was distantly aware that she was lying flat on her back on a hard, cold surface and that someone was shaking her shoulder gently, calling her name. She could see nothing, though, and all of her senses seemed to be shrouded in mist. Vaguely, some notion installed itself in Sarah's mind, telling her not to fight the fog, to swim away from consciousness, to surrender herself to the mist. There was some terror awaiting her, something that she would not—could not—face. It would be better to just fade away.

Try as she might, though, Sarah was unable to sink back into blissful sleep. Now that she had awaked partway it was impossible to go back. Her eyelids fluttered open, her head reeled, and after a moment she remembered who she was, and where she was...and why she was there.

And cold. Not cold like a winter's day, sharp and clear and with the tang of life about it, but a cold that was nothing more than the utter absence of warmth. And nothing. She couldn't even call it pain, this feeling, or lack thereof.

A face was above hers. For a moment she didn't recognise it, and blinked, trying to distinguish the indistinct, colourless shapes. There was something wrong with her vision, though; everything was dark, grey, blurry.

'Sarah, are you alright?' At least she recognised the voice, though. It was her father. Sarah tried to push herself up, but couldn't find the floor, and when she looked down in dull incomprehension she saw that her hand was pressed to the floorboards, even though she couldn't feel them.

'Yes.' It was the most blatant lie she had ever told.

'We sent Tobias up to get you. He said you were collapsed on the floor, that he couldn't awaken you…'

'I am sorry for frightening him.' Was she sorry? No. She knew that she should be, knew that Toby must have been terrified, but somehow she could feel nothing. Nothing but nothingness.

'Sarah, you need to tell us what's wrong.' When had she ever confided in her father, though? When had she ever really confided in anyone? She had never been able to trust any of her earthly friends with her secrets fears, desires and memories. Not even Adrian, whom she had professed to love, had truly been in her confidence. The thought reminded her that she should call him, to make sure he was alright, but somehow she didn't care. Duty. Was that all that would be left to her? The duty not to frighten her brother, the duty to call her ex-fiancé, the duty to live her life?

Steadily, precisely, Sarah got to her feet.

'I'm fine. Just tired. I'll be downstairs in a few minutes.'

'…alright.' She waited, standing still as a statue, holding all of her muscles tightly immobile, until the door was closed.

And then she collapsed again, curled about herself, her eyes sightless and her mind filled with nothingness, the nothingness that was the knowledge that she would never see him again, never hear his beautiful voice, never feel his tender touch on her hand. Nothing. For the rest of her life.

Eternity had seemed like such an incomparably long time; now, though, the thought of another seventy years or so without him rivalled it. _The right choice, the right choice, the only choice…_

But there was no right choice, there had been no choice. She hadn't been able to stay in Faerie, could not live there. But here, after just a few hours, Sarah could feel her very life draining away, and she knew that she was dying, dying just like every other pitiful human being. That was all her was, now—a human, and she was a human without the one person who could make her happy, could make her truly live. Every moment life was trying to tear its way out of her. Even so, though, she couldn't escape the furious pounding of the shrivelled and broken heart in her chest. Each pulse hurt her more than the one before. Would she never be rid of it? Would it haunt her for the rest of her life? If only there was some way she could tear the treacherous organ from her chest; maybe then she could be happy. There was no way, though. There had been one, slim glimmer of hope for her: she had thought that maybe if she left Faerie she would be able to live in peace. That was gone now, though. She had thought she could adjust, but knew now that she couldn't. Humans were good at adjusting; but she wasn't entirely human any more, sometime along the way she had soaked up enough of Faerie to be trapped, trapped by her own conflicting nature, her own conflicting heart. If Jareth had been able to claim it, claim her heart in its entirety along with all of her soul, then she could have stayed with him, but as it was he had taken only a part of it, and the two sides of her were stretched across the void that separated the two words. She was torn apart.

And Sarah realized, knew with complete and utter certainty, that she could not live without Jareth. She needed him, needed him more than she needed air or water. Those she could live without. She could live without the sunlight, but could not live without him. There was no other option: she had to be with him. She could not be without him.

Yet, in the depths of her soul Sarah still knew that she could not live in Faerie, either. It was as she had written in her letter, her last desperate message of love and betrayal; living there would destroy her, and her destruction would destroy him. There was no other option: she could not be in Faerie. No options. She had only two, and neither one was a path she could actually take, could actually live with.

And then suddenly, brilliantly, the third option, the only option, came to her in a flash of light. There _was_ a right choice, there _was_ a good choice. The only choice. The only way out. The shining, radiant solution that would save her from eternity with him and would save her from a lifetime without him. The one thing she could do, the only way she could defeat the whims of her treacherous heart, the only way to save herself. To be without him, or to be in Faerie: neither one was an option. The essential question, though, was finally answered: the solution was simply not to be.

And there was peace, the peace she had longed for, because she finally understood, finally had the answer, finally had a way out. It was easy, simple, obvious, and Sarah almost laughed in wonder that she hadn't thought of it before. If she couldn't live with him and couldn't live without him, then she would not live.

* * *

Throughout supper Sarah smiled and laughed, and did not have to fake her happiness. Now that she had a way out, she could enjoy being with her family. She sat in quietude for the most part, listening to her brother and watching him complete and utter adoration, both for him and for the faerie king whose eyes he shared. She soaked up the comfortable, filial joy of the family setting which she hadn't experienced in so long, determined to enjoy them to the fullest, these last few minutes in their company.

Things were awkward at first, but Tobias' jubilance and Sarah's determination to have a pleasurable last evening soon had everyone talking and laughing, and Sarah felt a quiet relief that they were so welcoming. She dearly wished that she didn't have to tell them that this was the end, that she would never seen them again, but knew that she had to. She waited until after dinner, when they were sitting in the living room, as Tobias started to yawn in exhaustion but remained unwilling to go to bed.

'I have something to tell you,' she finally began. 'I want to thank you. It was not—' she smiled slightly, '_fair_ of me to suddenly show up like this. And I am very sorry for leaving as I did, for cutting you off like that.' For a moment, Sarah' already greyed and blurry vision quavered and she felt as though she was apologizing to Jareth, too. 'I missed you a lot.'

'Sarah,' Tobias asked, his round child's face pouty, his strange ad beautiful eyes heavy with sleep, 'why did you leave?'

'Toby—' Karen began, but he cut her off with a scowl.

'Who?'

'_Tobias_,' she conceded, 'let's not talk about that. Why don't you tell Sarah about—'

'No, Karen, it is all right,' Sarah replied. 'Of course he wants to know. Tob—Tobias, I am afraid that I cannot explain it. I...I was unwell. It was not because I did not love you.' She took a deep breath. 'And it is not for lack of love for you that I must leave again.' She paused, waiting for her words to sink in, for them to understand. Their happy faces held for a moment, then flickered in doubt and confusion.

'What do you mean?' her father asked, frowning, and Sarah realized how much older he looked now than he had four years ago.

'I love you all,' she told them, 'but I have come here to say goodbye. You will never see me again, of hear from me again. I cannot tell you why.' Before they could speak, protest, try to stop her, she leaned forward and kissed Tobias's smooth, soft cheek, and got to her feet.

'Goodbye,' she repeated once more, and turned and headed to the door.

'Wait—Sarah, wait!' Robert called after her, jumping to his feet. 'I don't understand.'

'There is nothing to understand. I am sorry for hurting you. But this is not my choice, Dad, you must believe me in that. I do not want this, no one could possibly want to do what I have to do. But it is the only thing I can do. I am just sorry that I could not spend more time with you.'

And with that, Sarah left, left her childhood home for the last time. She walked quickly, unwilling to give her family a chance to come after her. She thought she heard the pattering of young feet on the road as she turned the corner, but did not look back to see her brother chasing after her, just as she hadn't let herself look back at Faerie and Jareth. Why was she cursed so, to have so much to love and no way to keep any of it?

She wondered as she walked down the darkened streets why she had been able to bear being apart from her family for so long, but couldn't bear to live apart from Jareth. Did she love him more than she loved them? The answer was not hard to find, though: it wasn't that she loved them less, it was only that they hadn't contrived to keep her the way Jareth had. He had bound her heart to his, had somehow managed to make his presence vital to her survival. That was not something that happened on its own, and her brother and parents—because Karen was more of a mother than Linda ever had been, she saw that now—hadn't tried to, hadn't thought they'd needed to, hadn't been afraid that she'd leave. It was true what she had said, that she had no lack of love for her family. The realization put at her peace, even more at peace than she had been. Putting her hand out, Sarah hailed a cab.

She knew exactly what she was going to do, had thought it carefully through. Calmly, she directed the taxi driver to a cliff she knew of that overlooked the sea. She had a little money left, enough to pay him. The drive was a long one, and she passed the time staring out the window, silently saying goodbye to Earth, the world that was her home. It had been over four years since she had been in this city, her hometown, the scene of her childhood, the place she had first laid eyes on Jareth, but she remembered it as if no time at all had passed, and bid it farewell with all her heart. Once they got to the countryside she said a silent goodbye to the trees, the fields, and the stars, and when finally they arrived at their destination she stepped out into the fresh, crisp air and said goodbye to the wind.

She had no regrets. She had said goodbye to her family, had said goodbye to Jareth, had said goodbye to both worlds. There was no business left to take care of. Months ago, after the second time she had run, Jareth had let her come back to Earth to talk to her human friends, and she had said goodbye to them then. From her parents' house, before dinner, she had called Adrian to see if he was all right. His fate was, perhaps, a regret, but she did not blame herself. The news of his death had surprised her, but any great emotion was beyond her at this point. Had Jareth killed him? Had Finvarra or another friend or servant of theirs done it? Had it just been a twisted accident of a coincidence? She could never know. But she did not brood over it. She had come to the end of her journey, and there was nothing left to do but bid the world farewell in gratitude and whatever joy she could muster.

'Do you want me to wait?' the taxi driver asked, looking dubiously at the abandoned, darkened countryside.

'No, that is all right,' Sarah replied, and smiled at him as she turned to walk away. Everything was terrible, and yet somehow everything was perfect, too. It was a beautiful night. And while she could not be happy with her decision, she was so relieved to have found a way out that she might as well have been happy. The ghost of a smile lingering on her lips, Sarah pulled from her bag a length of rope. She had taken both the rope and the bag from her parent's house, but didn't think that they would mind. It was easy to find a large stone, just barely light enough to lift, and carry it to the edge of the cliff, where she carefully knotted the rope around in until she was certain it was secure before tying the other end to her ankle. She set the stone on the very edge of the cliff, so that when she jumped her weight would pull it over, and then it could pin her to the ocean floor. That way her body would not be found, her family would never have to know of her death, and eventually she would be dragged out into the deeper regions of the sea, until her empty shell turned into water and sand. She would be with nature forever, in the wildest part of the human world, the closest she could get to Faerie; and besides, the ocean had always reminded her of Jareth: the sublime beauty, dangerous and exquisite at once, dark and powerful, the same colour as his eyes.

This was it. The end. Sarah felt nothing but complete serenity as she stepped to the edge of the cliff, closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath of fresh, salty sea air. Never the end she had imagined, but perhaps the best she could have hoped for. In a way she _would_ have eternal youth, since now she would never grow old. And she could be with Jareth forever, because she knew that even when her body became just another part of the moving currents of the ocean, her love for him would linger on, a blessing over both worlds. This was her choice, the only choice, the only way to save them both. Sarah smiled as she stepped forward, at peace with everything and everyone and herself.

* * *

She was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out at the sea. Was she missing him, or just appreciating the beauty of the human world? Jareth held himself tightly, resolutely, keeping his emotions in check. He would approach her, talk to her, and she would be convinced. No matter what he had to do, he would convince her. She would come back to him, stay with him, love him. This was folly, folly pressed on her by a band of fools who nothing and hadn't seen her in two decades. The fact that she could let her erstwhile friends talk her into leaving him hurt, of course, but he could handle it, he could handle anything...as long as he had her. He needed her.

Jareth did not materialize beside her, not wanting to startle her. He would come to her slowly. A little ways down the hill, he appeared behind a grove of trees where she would not see him, and then stepped out into the open. She was facing away, and his already ruined heart broke with love again as he beheld her, in all her beauty and serenity.

What was she doing here, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere? For an instant he paused, wondering if she wanted to be alone, if she had to think things through. Maybe she would decide on her own to come after him. Then he stepped forward, though, longing to be near her. He would call her name, and whatever her purpose here she would turn, and come to him, and he would take her in his arms and crush her to him and make her understand how much he loved her, that he would do anything for her, that he would make her happy in Faerie. They would find a way, if they tried, he knew they would. He loved her so much, so very, very much...

Jareth stepped forward, her beloved name on his lips, and then, in a moment of terrible clarity, he realized what she was doing, why she was here. He leapt towards her, horror and terror clawing through him, as his dearest, his Sarah, his only love, calmly stepped into the empty air before her and plummeted through the night wind to the murky waters of the sea below.

* * *

_Thanks for reading_

_And for those of you who haven't read the Bible (or seen Jesus Christ Superstar, which is what I did), Judas betra_ys _Jesus by kissing him on the cheek to signal to the soldiers which man to arrest. Jesus says, "Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?" Judas then commits suicide. _

_Please review!  
_


	22. Chapter 22

_Please, I __**BEG**__ you, tell me what you think of this chapter. It's probably the most important part of the whole story, and it's really important to me to get feedback, good or bad—and yes, I know that some people won't like it. __Please__, though. _

_The song I use is…well, it's from the movie, so you should recognize it. _

_I __hope__ you enjoy this…_

* * *

_I am your master, you my thrall,_

_And you will never leave my halls,_

_I own your entire being,_

_And you've no hope of ever fleeing._

**Chapter 22**

Jareth reached the edge of the hill and threw himself over it after her, without pausing to think, without wondering how he could prevent them both from drowning. Over the ocean—running salt water—his magic would not work. That didn't matter, though; all that mattered was that he reached her, reached her before it was too late.

He launched himself over the edge of the cliff, incapable of drawing breath, incapable of thought, aware only that she was falling, plummeting towards the vicious black waters below, dragged down by the stone she'd tied to herself, falling faster than he was. He reached for her, panic tightening around him like a vice. It couldn't end, not here, not like this.

There was hardly a splash as Sarah slipped into the frigid embrace of the ocean. Jareth hit the sea a moment later and plunged beneath it, forcing himself through water that was thick like tar, dragging himself towards her... Until at last his fingers touched her cold and bloodless shoulder, and he pulled himself to her, his lungs burning. He wrapped his arms around her, but could not let himself take even a moment to revel in her touch, to let her presence soak into him. His tenderness and desperation warred and he clutched her tightly, but also gently, as he struggled to swim, to pull her back to the surface. The stone she had tied to her leg was heavy, though, and without the use of his arms he could not drag them back into the air, and they continued to sink towards the ocean floor.

Was this is, then? Would they die together, intertwined to the end, beneath the rolling waves of the sea? Was this the only way they could be together? He felt himself weakening, the gnawing need for oxygen causing his head to spin as they sank through the murk of memory and possibility. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, could only feel Sarah in his arms. Maybe she was right...maybe this was the best choice, the only choice...

But with an explosion of wet sand they hit the ocean floor, and Jareth' senses flooded back with a rush. Trying to think past the panic and lack of oxygen, trying to feel with his cold, numb fingers, he struggled through the crushing water until his hands found the rope attaching the deadly stone to her ankle. He tried to break it, but wasn't strong enough in his weakened state, and his vision was swimming, he couldn't remember...what was he trying to do?

The rope. The knot. _Untie it_.

His fingers were numbed beyond all sense, and he scrabbled desperately at the tangle of strands that was the knot. If he was in this condition, how must she be faring? Could she even be alive anymore? She had to be, she couldn't be dead, couldn't be, wasn't, _wasn't __**wasn't**_—

And at last the knot came apart in his hands and he pulled her into his arms and pushed off against the sandy floor of the ocean, writhing through the water back towards the surface. His lungs were on fire and the rest of his body was frozen and numb, but finally they broke through the water. He inhaled deeply, coughing up salt water, each burning breath a blessing, the air freezing against his wet skin. When he looked at Sarah, though, he saw that although her face was above the water, she hung limply in his arms and she wasn't breathing.

_No_.

Panicking again, Jareth held her in one arm and pulled himself towards shore with the other, struggling against the undertow. The cliff loomed up ahead, offering no salvation, but he knew there was a low beach nearby, if only they could reach it. Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he save her? _Why had she done this?_ The only light came from the moon and stars, and he couldn't tell how far they were from land. They would make it though; he could make it; he had to make it.

And he did. At last, as he struggled with hopelessness and was tempted to just give up, to let them sink back down together again, he finally felt sand beneath his feet again. Standing haphazardly, unsteadily, he cradled Sarah in his arms and staggered to the shore. There was no time to be gentle; he threw her to the ground and threw himself down beside her, pressing his mouth to hers and breathing, exhaling, trying to force her to breathe. When she didn't, he pulled back and slammed his hands into her chest, again and again, trying to force the life back into her. _He wasn't ready to let her go_. Again he pressed his mouth to hers, the gesture so alike to a kiss that his shoulders shook with a silent sob.

'_Live, Sarah_,' he whispered. '_Live. Live, my love_.'

And a spasm passed through her body as she coughed a horribly wracking cough, exhaling a lungful of water. Her eyes were half-closed and she stared back at him for a moment, her face peaceful and happy, before sighing softly and slipping back into unconsciousness. Jareth, weak with relief, held her pale, cold body close to him, pressing his cheek to her hair. She was alive, she would be all right...everything would be all right.

Jareth was weakened, but he was strong enough to transport them back Underground, to dry the salty remnants of the ocean from their bodies and clothes. Gently, he lay he down in a hospital bed; it was unlikely that she would need treatment, but he wanted her to be here, near a doctor, just in case.

'Is she all right?' he asked the physician, who examined her briefly before nodding. Jareth felt all of the energy draining from him and he collapsed into a chair. _Thank Anu_.

Time passed slowly, but Jareth did not stir from her side. He wanted to be with her when she awakened. When at last she did he saw her relaxing, sinking deeper into the blankets. A smile touched her face, and Jareth realized that she understood where she was, that she was happy to be back. Relieved that she wasn't fighting, Jareth smiled, too, reaching out to take her hand.

'Sarah...'

Her eyes snapped open. She stared at him, confused, and then he felt her body stiffen.

'What am I doing here?' she demanded, her voice coarse from the salt water. Jareth's blood froze at the icy anger in her voice. Clearly still weak, Sarah pushed herself up in the bed, glancing around before bringing her cruel eyes back to his. 'Did you...did you come and get me? _Again?_ Jareth...' At her last word the anger faded somewhat, to be replaced with an infinitely sad tenderness.

She hadn't relaxed because she knew she was in Faerie; she had relaxed because she had thought that she was dead.

'Sarah, what were you thinking?' he asked, clasping her hand in his. 'On that cliff...why? _Why_ Sarah?'

'I thought that you would understand,' she cried, pulling her hand from his, her voice despairing. 'I can't be with you, Jareth! Didn't you read my letter? This place is killing me.'

'Yes, Sarah, I understand that part. I do not understand why you did not talk to me, did not give me a chance to help you, but that is not what I am asking. Why did you try to—to kill yourself?' He choked on the word, hating to associate it with Sarah.

'What else could I do?' She looked away from him, her whole manner desperate. 'There's no other choice, Jareth. Don't follow me, this time. Just let me do what I have to do. I'm sorry. I love you.' She swung her legs over the side of the bed, swaying slightly as she tried to stand. Jareth put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.

'Where do you think you are going?'

'I'm leaving, Jareth. I'll never see you again. I love you. Let me go.'

'You cannot possibly think that I will let you go through with this,' Jareth replied, his voice low and dangerous. He did not want to keep her here against her will; but he was _not_ going to let her commit suicide. That was out of the question. Whatever it took, he would stop her from killing herself.

'It's the only way! I'm not happy about it, but it's the only option.'

'It is _not_ an option.' What were the options, though? What could he do? He could chain her down and refuse to leave on her own for even a moment...but he could never stand to restrain her like that. To do so would destroy him, because it wasn't just her presence that he needed; it was her love. From the look in her eye, though, he could tell that she would not be convinced to stay. What could he do, then?

His mind touched on one possibility, something he had refused to even consider before, but he pushed it away. He could not do that to her. Even if it would solve everything.

'I have to, Jareth,' Sarah whispered, and when she looked back at him her eyes burned with both tears and determination. 'I figured it all out. I can't live with you, but I can't live without you. It makes sense, you know it does. Listen Jareth, I know that death scares you, because faeries are supposed to live forever. But I'm a human, so death is just...the natural next step. You can't stop me.'

'My dear Sarah,' Jareth hissed, anger and desperation invading his voice as he got to his feet, 'I think that you are forgetting exactly how much power I have over you.' Her eyes widened in shock and hurt at the old memory.

'You had no right to bring me back here,' she snarled, tenderness draining from her voice. 'I chose my path. You can't keep trying to force me to be with you. Jareth, I can't deny that I love you...but _I do not want to be here._'

The words shot through him. He felt no pain, not yet; just numb. She was telling the truth, and she would not change her mind. It was over, and her life was over, unless he intervened. The anger was gone, for now, and he stood straight and tall, staring down at her.

'Well,' he said, his voice surprisingly steady, 'be that as it may, I refuse to let you die.' He snapped his fingers, and thick iron chains appeared around her wrists, binding her to the bed. 'Do not worry, Dearest,' he told her, ignoring her cry of outrage. 'I will find a way to save you, to save us. I already have an idea.' Somehow, he turned and walked away, across the room. Somehow he managed to keep moving, even after having heard her say it, after she had said to his face, looking into his eyes, that she didn't want to be with him. There was no way to misinterpret this, no alternate explanation; this was it. All he felt was numb, though, as he opened the door. It wasn't until he stepped outside the room that the pain hit him.

Jareth's whole body trembled as he walked through the eternal halls of his castle. She was back, yes, and yet there was no respite. She wasn't going to stay, not willingly, anyway. If he let her go she would kill herself, and if he made her stay she would hate him. When she had looked at him with fear and accusation in her cruel green eyes, he had known what he would have to do. It was the only option. But…the grief and pain and abandonment and rejection washed over him in waves, far harder to fight than the sea of the human world that had almost drowned them both.

'Jareth!' He recognised Manannan's voice hailing him, even though he couldn't see him, and stopped. When had Manannan gotten here? He wanted to be alone. Slowly, though, he turned around and saw Manannan, Midir and Finvarra, his three greatest friends, striding towards him.

'So you brought her back,' Midir said softly, and Jareth nodded.

'I do not want to talk about it.'

'What are you going to do now?'

'I said I do not want to talk about it,' he snapped, turning around again. Why couldn't they leave him alone? Couldn't they see that he was in pain?

'Jareth—'

'Leave me alone!' he cried, turning on the spot and dematerializing, to appear again in his room. He conjured a crystal blindly, and of course it showed _her_ treacherous face. With a cry of pain and rage he dashed it against the floor, and it shattered to pieces. The violent, mindless act felt good, though, so he conjured another crystal, and another, and another, smashing them all violently against the walls. Why was life so difficult? So painful? So endless? Why was it harder to bear now? Having seen her, having had to drag her back against her will, knowing that it wasn't a mistake, that she actually never wanted to see him again, that she would rather die than be with him, reopened all the wounds she'd torn in his soul over the years, the wounds he'd tried to stem and ignore as he'd searched for her once again. Dark energy crackled in the air around him and crystals shattered between his bleeding fingers.

'How could she do this to me?' he cried, slamming his fist into the wall and screaming as he felt his fingers break. The pain was good, though, because it distracted him from the emotional agony within. His hand burned, the cracked digits swelling as he continued to conjure crystals and smash them against the walls and floor, each shattered shard showing her beautiful, beloved, perfidious face. Finally, his strength ran out and he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees, a gasping sob of pain escaping him as he caught himself on his bloody and swollen fingers. Shaking, Jareth bowed his head, his face a broken mask of agony.

Then a pair of cool hands touched his shoulder, pulled his hair back from his face, and for a blissful moment he thought it was Sarah.

'Jareth,' Finvarra said softly, pulling him back until he knelt upright on the floor, the pressure gone from his broken hands, 'you need to calm down.'

_Leave me alone_, Jareth wanted to say, but those weren't the words that came out.

'How could she do this to me?' he whispered, closing his eyes. Finvarra took his burning fingers in his own smooth hands and Jareth felt them healing, the skin and bone knitting together. He leaned back, appreciating the comfort in spite of himself.

'Just stay calm, Jareth. We can handle this.'

'Where are Midir and Manannan?' he asked, remembering suddenly that they had been there earlier.

'I wanted to talk to you alone.' Jareth was still trembling, weak from pain, grief, exhaustion and over expenditure of magic. Finvarra gently laid his hands on the throbbing muscles of Jareth's arms and after one last violent spasm he stilled, all energy seeping from him. Spent, he collapsed against Finvarra, who sat behind him, holding him soothingly.

'I feel so lost, Fin,' he breathed. He was in no way relaxed, but his muscles had all given out and he was slumped against Finvarra's chest.

'Talk to me, Reth. Tell me what happened.'

'She just left. I came home the evening of Beltane and she was gone. All that was left was a letter.'

'Did she say why she left?'

'She is afraid to live forever. What did I do wrong, Fin?'

'You did nothing wrong.' He felt Finvarra's hand slipping beneath his shirt to press against this heart. 'You just loved her too much.' How could his heart possibly still beat, after all that had been done to it? He could feel it within him, though, throbbing against this friend's hand, sending pain coursing through his body with each harsh pulse. Could it be true that he had loved her too much?

'What do you mean?'

'When she first appeared in your hall all those months ago on Samhain, you told me that you would enslave her and make her yours. Do you remember?'

Jareth didn't answer. He had said that, hadn't he? At what point had he stopped just wanting to dominate her in revenge, and started wanting...more?

'You did not do that, Reth. You loved her too much; you wanted her to choose you willingly. Do you remember how you manipulated her during her first month here, how you purposefully tormented her and made her miserable?'

'Fin, what does that have to do with anything?' Jareth asked. His strength was returning slowly, but he didn't pull away from Finvarra; the physical contact was comforting and, in spite of everything, pleasurable.

'My point is that in that mindset you could have kept her.'

_Could have..._

'What are you saying, Finvarra? What are you implying?' he demanded. Now he did pull away, pushing himself to his feet. Staggering, still weakened, he spun around to face his friend.

'I am sorry, Jareth,' Finvarra said softly, reaching a hand towards his friend. 'If you love her, really love her...then you cannot keep her. She is right, you see: she cannot be happy here, and if she tries to stay then it will destroy you both. She is human.'

'You are not making sense, Finvarra,' Jareth replied, hating the desperation in his voice.

'I do not want to hurt you,' his friend answered quietly, 'but she has run three times now, and been brought back against her will each time. It is starting to look like she might just keep running. And you love her too much to keep her here unwillingly.' For a long moment, Jareth held his friend's gaze. Then, he laughed.

'Is that all? You had me worried for a moment.' Finvarra looked at him quizzically, his head cocked, and Jareth smiled at him. 'Of course I love her too much to keep her here against her will. But she was going to kill herself, and I love her too much to let her do that, either. And besides...she belongs with me. _To_ me. No, I will not keep her here unwillingly. But I will do everything in my power to convince her to stay.'

'Have you not already tried everything?'

'No, Fin. You know that I have not. There is something I can do...something that will bind her to me forever. Something that will make sure that she never wants to leave me again.' He paused at his friend's sharp hiss of breath. 'Yes, Finvarra,' he continued, 'you know what I am talking about. I mean to perform Aine's Curse.'

'Jareth,' Finvarra cautioned, getting to his feet and approaching, 'I do not think that is a good idea.' Jareth laughed.

'It was your suggestion, remember? I rejected it at first, but now I see the wisdom in it.'

'Jareth, you are distressed. If you think it through you will see what a bad idea it is. I only suggested it because I knew you would never agree.' He paused for a moment, but when Jareth didn't answer he added, 'It is a bad idea. Do not do it.'

'I do not want to do it, Fin,' Jareth sighed. He suddenly felt very tired again, tired and hopeless. 'But you are right. And she is right. I thought she belonged in this world, but I was wrong. She is human. But she does not belong in her world either. And I cannot live without her. This is the only way.' Leaning on the windowsill, Jareth rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He didn't want to do this. But he couldn't think of any other answer.

'But Jareth,' Finvarra said softly, getting to his feet, 'if you do that to her will you still want her for eternity? She will not be the way she is now, she will be permanently changed, but once it is done you cannot go back. She will be bound to you until her death.'

'She already is, Fin. Did you not hear me? When I found her she was going to kill herself. She could leave me, but she could not bear to be apart from me. Last time maybe she could have, but she is mine now; she has given herself to me, which is exactly what I wanted… I did not understand, though. She cannot live in my world, but the only way she can leave me is through death. Aine's curse will not change anything, Fin. She will still be bound to me until she dies—this will just prolong it, prolong her life. It will save her from death or misery; it is the only way she can be happy.'

'But Jareth, think about this.' Jareth felt his friend standing behind him, but he did not turn. 'Think about what it will do to her.'

'Do not pretend for a moment that you care about Sarah,' Jareth snapped, angry again. He knew that his mood fluctuating almost randomly, his temper uncertain, but could do nothing to stop it.

'Sarah? _Sarah?_ Of course I do not care about Sarah!' Finvarra put his hands on Jareth's shoulders and pulled him against this chest, gently and violently at once. 'I care about _you_, Jareth,' he breathed, 'I am trying to protect you. I cannot let you destroy the woman you love.'

Jareth wanted to say that he didn't need or want protection, but in spite of himself he felt his anger draining away again. His friend was trying to help him. How could he be mad? Silently, Jareth raised his eyes and saw his reflection in the window. He looked terrible, starved and exhausted, far more tired and troubled than a faerie should ever be. He had thought that he was standing straight and strong, but now saw that he was bent, slumped in Finvarra's arms. He was broken, destroyed, by his love for Sarah. Could he fault his friend for trying to help? And besides, what would he do without Finvarra? He lacked the strength to stand on his own; Finvarra stood behind him, his arms around Jareth, supporting him. Seeing that reflection—the two of them together, intertwined, as one—he remembered all of the millennia that they had spent together. He knew Finvarra far better than he knew Sarah; in some ways he even loved Finvarra most.

Perhaps that was the problem, though. Finvarra cared about him, too, wanted what was best for him; he wasn't thinking of Sarah's wellbeing.

'Of course not, Fin,' he sighed, covering his friend's hand with his. Their fingers knit together, and a pulse of trust and intimacy joined them, passion and tenderness spilling between them. 'But I am not going to destroy her; I am doing the only thing that can save her.'

* * *

When Sarah awakened she knew immediately that she had been moved. Before, she'd been in a soft bed that would have been deliciously comfortable had it not been for the thick chains binding her down. Now, though, she was shivering flat on her back on a hard surface that felt like stone. Down in the dungeons, she supposed.

Upon opening her eyes, though, she saw that she was, in fact, outside. It was night-time and the moon was full and bright, but apart from that the only light came from the stars and from five torches, which circled around her. Seeing them, Sarah felt uneasiness crawling up her spine. She had expected Jareth to punish her for her actions, but this felt more frightening and certainly more ominous than a temper tantrum and a few weeks locked up.

It was only when she tried to move that she found that her arms and legs were chained tightly in a star-shape and that a thick collar held her neck to the ground. Straining her eyes, she saw that she was clothed in a long, chaste white nightgown. He sense of apprehension growing, she finally raised her eyes and saw Jareth sitting on the ground at her side, watching her, his face expressionless. Relief and comfort washed over her for a moment, in spite of the circumstances, as it always did when she saw him.

'I did not want to do this,' he told her. 'I tried everything, Sarah. Why are you driving me to this?'

Fear gripped Sarah, a terrible fist around her heart.

'What are you going to do?' she asked, her voice as small and uncertain as it have been when she was fifteen. 'Jareth, what are you doing to me?'

'Only what it necessary,' he replied, moving forward to kneel at her side. As he did so, Sarah saw the long, curved dagger in his hands. 'You will see, Sarah. It may hut at first, but when it is over you can finally be happy. I understand, Sarah, I understand why you left, and why you tried to do take your own life, but you do not have to worry anymore; I will make everything better. My only regret is that it will hurt you, at first. I never wanted to hurt you; this is harder for you than it is for me, believe me.' For a moment pain flashed in his eyes, but then he got to his feet and lay the dagger across her chest, between her breasts. Sarah's breath began to come in short gasps as terror tore through her.

'Jareth, wait! Please, what are you going to do to me?' Instead of answering he conjured a crystal and let it float down to touch her face. Sarah tensed and flinched when it made contact, but nothing seemed to happen.

'That was just to keep you conscious,' he explained. 'I am very sorry for that—you cannot possibly imagine how much it hurts me to see you in pain, but you must stay awake throughout the whole ordeal if this is to work. I just wish it did not have to hurt you so much.'

Whatever he was going to do would hurt her enough to make her pass out—but she wouldn't be able to. Frantically, she tried to think of way out. Jareth was standing over her, singing something in a strange language. Could she talk him out of it? Perhaps if she begged him, apologized profusely, told him she loved him...but her throat was sealed closed with terror and she could hardly breathe, let alone talk.

Finally, Jareth's chanting came to an end, and he knelt down at her side again.

'I am going to unchain you in a moment, but you must lie still,' he whispered. 'Oh, Sarah. You must be strong. It will hurt, at first, but when it is over we can finally be together. You will see.'

Sarah remained paralyzed with fear as he lay down at her side, wrapping himself around him in a disturbingly tender embrace. Gently, he kissed her, his lips softly probing hers until they parted of their own accord.

'Be strong, Precious One,' he whispered, holding her close. 'This is very dangerous, but I do believe in you. If ever you are tempted to just give into death, though, remember this.' He sighed, burying his face in her hair, and said, 'I did not want to tell you like this. When I told you, I wanted everything to be perfect, which is why I waited so long. But if it will save your life, I will tell you.' Pushing himself up, he stared deep into her eyes and said with complete and utter sincerity, 'I love you.'

And Sarah knew that it was true. The power of his statement caught her breath in her throat.

'Jareth...' she breathed, with no idea what she intended to say. Before she could get another word out he kissed her again, and she could feel the intensity of his feelings for her as she, for some reason unknown to even her, kissed him back, in spite of everything.

Then, before she could do anything, while she still basked in the comfort and pleasure of his touch and the caring of his words, he snapped his fingers, the chains disappeared and, with no warning, he savagely tore open the front of her nightgown and plunged the dagger into her chest.

The pain was like nothing she could possibly imagine. It twisted its way inside her, ripping, tearing, destroying. She knew that she was screaming but couldn't remember opening her mouth, couldn't remember anything but the brutal agony as the knife carved through her sternum, tracing a white-hot, ice-cold line down her chest. Her whole body was on fire, and why did she have to deal with this pain but it wasn't going away and surely it would kill her Oh God oh God she could feel herself sinking in unconsciousness but she wasn't passing out... And then the knife was gone and something was shoving into the slash in her chest, hands, two hands were inside of her and tearing her open, she could feel her ribs cracking beneath his fingers as he lay her wide like a book. The pain was unbearable, her body screamed as her organs were laid bare. Her every nerve was on fire, yet she froze in a sea of ice. There was nothing but the pain, it consumed her, the infinite and eternal agony that was all there was and all there ever had been and all there ever would be and she couldn't handle it it was too much she would do anything, anything to be free of it. There was one path, she could feel a chasm of cool, dark respite which would end everything, but the pain _was_ everything and she had to end the pain she could feel herself sinking towards it, closer, closer...

But the pain wasn't everything. No, there was something else, a memory, whispered words in her ear... _I love you...._

...and she latched onto that. There was no logic, now, no carefully reasoned solutions, just whatever sensation, physical or emotional that managed to make it past the agony. As long as there was something, anything left to live for, anything besides the pain, then she could endure it, but oh God how it tore at her, wrenching, crushing, burning, consuming, she could feel her hot sticky blood and hear her heart pounding in her gaping chest, in her head, though her entire body...

And then, in one wrenching, terribly impossibly unbelievably agonizing moment, the pounding, the throbbing heartbeat, was gone, leaving a gnawing, cavernous hole in her chest. The pain was excruciating, it entangled in her limbs and enfolded her in its burning embrace, and the chasm in her chest was filled with a dreadful, frigid cold, which settled within her and spread, warring with the heat until her ever-conscious mind twisted and writhed in agony. She heard a horrid, cracking, crunching noise and felt her ribs being forced back together along the burning line of ice across her chest, and the cold was trapped within her and she could feel her skin knitting back together but the pain, the pain, it wouldn't go away and why was the bearing it when she could just sink away...she should just let go...

But no, she couldn't. She had a reason to live, something to hold onto. He loved her. Someone loved her, someone very important loved her, so she could go on, because there was a world beyond the pain, even though her agony had already lasted an eternity. With that thought a horrible calm washed over her. It didn't lessen the pain, but it lessened her panic, and through her tear-logged eyes a new sense revealed itself, a sense that she had forgotten existed: sight. There was a man above her, a terrible, cruel, beautiful angel of a man. His hands were on either side of her ribcage and he was singing a strange song in words she recognized, but didn't understand.

_How turn my world you precious thing..._

_You starve and near exhaust me..._

_Everything I've done I've done for you!_

_I move the stars for no one..._

Was this the one who loved her? Or was he was one who had hurt her? She couldn't remember...

_You've run so long, you've run so far,_

_Your eyes can be so cruel..._

_Just as I can be so cruel..._

His hands were on her stomach, tracing up her chest over the burning, freezing line that had cut her open.

_Though I do believe in you..._

Then the man lowered his face to the base of her throat, where the burning started, and he pressed his cool smooth lips to the seam, kissing it better, down between her breasts to her naval, where the line of fire ended.

_Yes, I do..._

Someone had been screaming, but as the pain lessened marginally the horrible wails turned to dry, harsh sobs, and she realized in a detached way that it was her. The man—the name_ Jareth_ came suddenly to her mind, unbidden—reappeared above her face, his pale fingers stroking back her wet hair.

_Live without the sunlight..._

Jareth...but did he love her, or hurt her? Or both? And did she love him? Yes. That she knew, knew with every fibre of her being. The love overwhelmed her, rivaling even the pain, and she had always loved him but somehow she loved him more, now...

_Love without your heartbeat..._

Either way, he leaned down once again and kissed her dry and cracking lips, lying down beside her on the sticky stone and gathering her into his arms.

_I can't live within you..._

As he maneuvered her into his arms more pain stalked into her, but it was worth the comfort of his embrace.

'And now, my Sarah,' he murmured, stroking his fingers through her hair. 'Now you will be mine forever.'


	23. Chapter 23

_For when you bound yourself to me_

_You locked your chains: I hold the key_

_I'll keep it safe forevermore_

_And free will you shall know no more._

**Chapter 23**

Where there is no light, and there is no sound, and there is no wind or time, there is nothing. _I think therefore I am_, that was all she knew as she remained suspended in nothingness. She knew that she existed, and she held to that thought even though it seemed, quite often, that she didn't exist at all, that she was merely a part of something else, something greater than her. There was a thought, a memory, an echo of love, but she soon learned that that recollection was the blissful entrance to a chasm of unknowable pain, so she didn't stray near it. There was her; and there was someone else. Or perhaps they were one. She did not risk approaching the concepts of love and pain, because when she had—for even though there was no past, present or future for her, she knew that she had done so, and once again she did not think that concept through through—when she had, she had gotten sucked in. There was warmth, though, and comfort, and she felt no desire to leave her misty realm.

Eventually, though, she did awaken. She was disoriented at first, feeling nothing but comfort and love. A hand stroked her face and she leaned into the touch, amazed at the warmth that it brought. She could not remember who she was, let alone where she was, but she knew that she was happy. Her eyes fluttered open, and she was reminded what sight was. As soon as she saw Jareth she recognised him, though, and smiled automatically, knowing with all her mind and heart and soul that this was where she belonged, with him.

A moment later she remembered everything.

Gasping, she scrambled back, away from him, pushing his hand away. She felt colder without his touch, and longed for in spite of what he had done, but her yearning was overwhelmed by her anger.

Nonetheless, the feelings of comfort and home brought by presence did not flee.

'You sick, twisted monster,' she whispered, still retreating, wincing and bringing a hand to her ribs. She didn't feel pain there, exactly, just a strange, hollow emptiness.

'Please, my love, you must understand,' he said, reaching a hand towards her again. 'If you think about it you will see. Everything can be perfect now. I read your letter and I understand why you left. But now you can be happy.' He smiled a brilliant smile, but still she recoiled.

'Jareth,' she said, her voice coming out half-gasp and half-sob. 'Jareth, what did you do to me?' She couldn't remember much from that night, it was all a blur. All she could remember was pain, and that he has told her he loved her.

'A spell called Aine's Curse. The past does not matter, though, my darling. From now on there will only be the present, and we can love each other fully and without regrets, for eternity.'

'Stop changing the subject, Jareth. I want to know what you did. Did you...' she took a deep, shuddering breath; voicing it aloud, speaking her fear, would make it real. 'Jareth, did you rip my heart out?'

For a long moment he held her gaze, and then he nodded. She closed her eyes, her face haggard, turning away. Immediately she felt Jareth's hands at her shoulders, stroking away her hair, offering comfort.

'Your heart was already mine, my dearest angel. Now it is my magic that flows through your veins, in the place of what you had already given me. This way you are bound to me inseparably, and we can be together, really be together. Please be happy. I know you will come to understand.'

'Understand?' she repeated. Violently she jerked away from him. '_Understand?_ Understand why you mutilated me for your own fucked up purposes? Why you tied me down and bound me to you against my will? Understand how you can tell me love you even as you tear open my chest? How the hell could I possibly understand that?' She pushed herself to the floor, standing on wobbling legs and swooning as her vision faltered. Although she felt terribly cold, she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself for warmth.

'I can't understand that, Jareth. I thought this through, and I know what I have to do. Now kindly _stop preventing me from doing it_.' She turned, and strode away from him. She almost managed to reach the door before she collapsed.

Fear and frost seemed to wrap their frigid arms around her. Her breath came in short gasps as she knelt on the floor, trying to figure out why this was happening. Jareth must be enchanting her somehow, trying to confuse her, but she would not fall for it. Weakly, she tried to crawl forward, but crumpled after just a few weary feet. She was so cold. Was there anything beneath her skin at all, or was there nothing inside her but winter air and emptiness? All rationality had long since left her, and she was left only with the cold. Where was she going? What was she trying so desperately to crawl to?

_Jareth..._

The name was like a beacon of light in her mind. That was it; she was trying to get to Jareth, because he would save her from this cold. If she was with him then everything would be all right, all would be well. She loved him. She just had to reach him.

And then he was there, enfolding her in his arms, drawing her close. She clutched his shoulders, pressing herself to his chest, trying to drive away the cold that filled her. It faded slowly, but eventually she found herself warmed again, dry sobs wracking through her body. He held her gently, sitting with her on the floor. It was a long time before she found herself able to speak.

'What happened?' she asked, her breath still hard.

'You walked away from me, my precious.'

'What? Why would I distance myself from you?' Her brow wrinkled as she tried to remember why she would want to be even a few feet away from him. 'You must be wrong.'

'No, my pet. You asked how I could tell you I loved you even as I tore your heart out.'

He _had_ torn her heart out, hadn't he? How could she have forgotten? What was wrong with her? She had been running from him...why had she suddenly thought that she was trying to reach him? In spite of it all, though, she could not hate him.

'It doesn't make sense, Jareth. You don't do that to someone you love.'

'But you love me.'

'Yes.' She answered immediately, because she knew it was true. In spite of what he had done, she loved him as much now as she had before, if not more so.

'Well, my dearest, what do you think it felt like when I came home and found your letter?' He held her gaze as she struggled to breathe, refusing to release her from his stare. 'I did not understand how you could do that to me. Deny me, betray me, abandon me in a moment, without even saying goodbye. You tore my heart out, my love, before I tore out yours, and trust me when I say that what physical pain you went through was nothing to what I felt.' A shadow of pain flashed across his face, and suddenly she felt a torrent of rushing pain and rejection, crimson regret and betrayal. It was a memory, she realized suddenly; Jareth was remembering what her abandonment had done to him, and somehow she could feel it, too.

The hollow pain ended a moment later as Jareth cut off the memory, his face hard, and she looked back up at him.

'I—I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted to stay, I really did, but I couldn't. I'm sorry.' Her voice was small and weak, and cracked on the last word. All other thoughts vanished from her mind, and all she could think of was that she had hurt him. He sighed and pulled her closer, resting his cheek on her hair, and peace and comfort washed over her. Everything would be all right. As long as she was with Jareth, everything would be perfect.

There was a knock at the door, but she didn't care enough to look up. When Jareth spoke, inviting whoever it was inside, she paid no attention to his words and instead just revelled in the sound of his voice. The door opened and someone, or perhaps several people, entered, but still she didn't bother glancing up; the only person who mattered was already there with her.

Jareth stood, greeting the guests, but she remained seated on the floor at his feet; as long as she was with him, touching him, moving wasn't worth the effort. He rested his palm on her head and she leaned into his hand, smiling, happy. The conversation droned on, but she paid it no heed, except, of course, when Jareth spoke, when she let the waves of his voice sweep over her, around her, through her. Only when he addressed her, some time later, did she remember where she was, what was happening, what he had done.

'Precious?' he said, moving his hand to tilt her face up. Her eyes snapped open, and she through the swathes of mist she remembered everything. Immediately she got to her feet, looking hurriedly over at the doorway. Finvarra and Onagh stood there, watching her, and while she knew that she should be happy to see the queen, she felt absolutely nothing. Forcing a smile, she struggled to find her voice.'

'Hi,' she managed, but could think of nothing else to say. What was happening to her? This curse, Aine's Curse, seemed to be slowly eating away at her mind. For long minutes there she had been all but unconscious, with no memories and no thoughts of her own. Jareth had been everything, her all-consuming light, just minutes after she had pulled away from him in fury. Even now her thoughts were swimming, and she had to clench her fists and her jaw to remember who she was, what had happened, and what she had to do: escape, somehow.

Then he spoke again, and her mind was wiped blank once more.

'Precious, Onagh would like to speak with you. Go with her.' She nodded, the thought of disobeying never crossing her mind, and took a step forward, but then stopped, remembering what had happened last time she had walked away from him.

'Do not worry, my heart, she knows not to take you far. Go.' Still nervous but unable to refuse him, she stepped towards Onagh, who led her just a few paces away. With each step she took away from Jareth, cold filled the hollow within her, but they remained close enough to leave her standing. Still, she had to focus all her mind on breathing and keep reminding herself that he was there, just a few feet away, and it took her a moment to realize that Onagh had been speaking.

'Sorry, what did you say?' she asked, her voice a bare whisper. She tried hard to listen as Onagh repeated herself, but couldn't catch more than a few words at a time. She glanced over her shoulder at Jareth, and a moment later she felt Onagh's hand on her shoulder. The touch seared her, burning, blistering, and with a cry she pulled away. The few thoughts she had managed to collect spun wildly, and all control she had over herself faded. Desperately, she turned and staggered back to Jareth.

-

Jareth wrapped his arms around her, looking worriedly up at Onagh. He had never performed Aine's curse before and had never been in contact with its victims so soon after the ritual, so he didn't know what to expect. It seemed that any touch besides his would burn her, though, and he wondered how the queen would take this transformation in her friend. Onagh wasn't looking at her, though, she was looking at him. Her eyes were cold and furious, and Jareth's fingers clenched in fear. She was more powerful than he, and could punish him for his deeds if she wanted to. Onagh did not attack him, though. She stared at them for a moment longer, and then, with no warning, she dematerialized.

'What will she do?' he asked Finvarra, who shrugged.

'It is hard to say. I thought I had her figured out, but she had been acting strangely lately. I suppose I should go after her,' he added after a moment, looking severely displeased.

'You probably should,' Jareth agreed, testing the remaining traces of Onagh's magic to see where she had gone. 'She is in the forest.'

'Yes,' Finvarra sighed. 'Well, I will go later; I do not feel like it now. Come, let us sit.'

'All right. Come, pet,' Jareth said, and she followed him to a low sofa where she sat at his side.

'The curse worked very well,' Finvarra commented dryly.

'Yes. I did not really know was to expect,' Jareth admitted, reaching out to take a lock of her hair between his fingers. 'I did not think she would have to stay so very close to me...'

'Her tolerance will grow with time, or so I hear, and so will her devotion. Right now you can tell that she manages to gather her thoughts on occasion, manages to think and remember on her own, but soon she will not be able to do even that, and will exist solely through you.'

'Good,' Jareth replied. 'Excellent good.'

'Is that what you wanted, then?' Finvarra's voice was surprisingly gentle, his grey eyes intense. It felt strange to Jareth to be discussing this in front of her, but he knew that she would not be able to follow the conversation. He sighed, and felt suddenly tired again, tired to the bone.

'No, Finvarra. All I wanted was to be with her. I would have been happier to see her free and whole and well. This was a last resort, not what I truly wanted.'

'But do you regret it?' Jareth paused for a moment. He wanted to think the question through and make sure that he knew his own heart before he answered. He looked over at her, sitting beside him, her beautiful eyes wide with adoration. It was still her, still the girl he loved. Now she could truly be his, though, and they could finally be happy together. The long years of loneliness and misery had ended, and they would be together for eternity, both of them happy, entirely in love. What was there to regret? She would not be able to brood over things as she had before, and that had been what had caused them both so much pain and sadness. It was better this way; now neither of them would ever again be forced to hurt the other.

'No, I do not regret it. It was the right choice to make, the only choice. And even she, in her right mind, would certainly see that this is preferable to death.'

'I am happy for you,' Finvarra said quietly, 'but you do realize that your relationship can never be the same. You will never really be able to talk to her about anything again.'

'No,' Jareth agreed, 'but at this point, do we really need to talk? While we were falling in love we did so, but now all we need to be happy is to be together. And if I feel in need of stimulating conversation, I always have you, Fin.' Finvarra smiled.

'Of course. I am always happy to stimulate you. But do _not_ call me that.'

'You did not mind the other night,' Jareth answered, frowning.

'That was different. You were...distressed.' He sighed. 'Reth, you are not going to become like Midir and Étain, are you? You know what it is like when they are together, and you two will never be apart. I...I do not want our friendship to be tarnished because you have no time for anyone but her.'

'You need not worry,' Jareth answered. 'I love her,' he went on, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer, 'but now she is mine, fully mine, mind, body, soul and heart, and the world can be as it should be. She will never be able to leave me, will never be anything but completely devoted to me. Her free will is already dissolved, and soon her thoughts and emotions will be in perfect sync with mine. Of course I love her in return, but I will have no need to devote everything to her, or even speak to her. My mere presence is enough to make her happy. No, Fin, our friendship will never die. No woman could ever come between us. I...I love her entirely, I need her, I cannot live without her...but I could never care about anyone the way I care about you.'

Finvarra smiled, his eyes warm like molten silver.

'My sentiments exactly.'

* * *

Onagh raced through the forest. She could not remember the last time she'd run like this, but she could not stop. She had thought that she was closed off emotionally, protected, impermeable, but she had been wrong. It wasn't that what Jareth had done surprised her—Aine's Curse was the sort of thing that faerie kings did to human girls without a second thought. What surprised her was the way if affected her, the pain it caused her.

Onagh hadn't known her for long; it had been less than a year since they had met, and for much of that time they had lived far apart in distant _brughs_. But Onagh had felt a connection with her that she hadn't felt with anyone in centuries. She was human, so she hadn't been involved in Faerie politics, and because of her relationship with Jareth Finvarra hadn't pursued her. Therefore the two of them had been able to talk with an honesty that Onagh hadn't experienced in so long. She had been Onagh's friend.

Yes, over the last few weeks Onagh had been happier than she had been since her first few decades as queen, and despite the worry and anxiety the war had caused her, she had begun to feel like a faerie again, instead of like a flower with frozen sap. But now that was gone, taken from her, stolen in an instant by the anger of an arrogant king.

She could punish Jareth; it was in her right as high queen, she could do as she pleased; but he was killed then, because she was bound to him, she would die, too. As terrible as her current condition was, her state of constant and mindless devotion and adoration, her living death, Onagh could not bear to have her die entirely.

Branches and vines leaned away from her as she ran between them, none of them even brushing her although she made no attempt to avoid them. Finally she reached the shore of a lake, and suddenly her energy failed her and she could run no longer. Exhausted physically and emotionally, Onagh sank to the ground. She bowed her head and her hair fell past her shoulders, curtaining her tragic face. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the tips, the tips that they had cut together all those weeks ago. Their friendship had been so brief, a single gust of fresh, sweet air in a lifetime of harsh, foul breath.

Friendship. Onagh had decided long ago that love wasn't worth the pain, but over the last few weeks she had begun to think that she might have been mistaken. But she had been right.

Suddenly Onagh sensed, rather than heard, Finvarra appear behind, but she didn't wait for him to talk to her; she got to her feet and stalked away around the lake. The water turned to ice as she passed and the sap in the trees and flowers froze. She had only moved a few feet when Finvarra materialized before her.

'Onagh—'

'I do _not_ want to talk to you,' she said, turning around and marching off again in the other direction. A moment later Finvarra was in front of her again, looking impatient and irritated.

'Onagh,' he said, 'calm down. I want to talk to you.' Onagh stared at him for a long moment. Over the millennia they had spent ruling together she had argued with him, yelled at him, ignored him, hated him…but she had never walked away from him. No matter what he did, or didn't do, she had never once turned her back on him and walked away. There was a difference, though; in the past he had only ever hurt her, but now he had hurt someone she cared about. Without a word she turned around again, heading silently into the forest.

For a long moment she thought that he would let her go, but then he came up beside her, walked at her side through the trees.

'Onagh—'

'Never talk to me again, Finvarra. We will speak at war councils, but nowhere else.'

'No, listen to me. I—'

'Do not pretend for a moment that you care. You just want to have control over everyone, including me. Well, if it is so important then why not rip out my heart? That seems to work.'

'Onagh,' he said, throwing an arm out to stop her. 'Onagh, I told him not to do it.' She stiffened, faltering for a moment, but then crossed her arms and stepped back, glaring.

'I do not believe you.'

'You know that I cannot lie, Onagh.'

'Well then you are twisting words,' she replied coolly. 'I know you, I know what you are like, and I know the influence that you have over Jareth.'

'I am _not_ twisting words,' he replied, clearly miffed. 'I am telling the truth. I told Jareth not to do it, and I think it was a terrible idea. I tried to talk him out of it, but he would not listen.' He crossed his arms, scowling at her. 'Now will you talk to me?'

'Are you going to cut off your friendship with Jareth?' Onagh didn't know what made her say it, because she knew that the answer would be the wrong one. It hadn't escaped her notice that even after she had fled the Castle beyond the Goblin City he had lingered to talk to Jareth before coming after her, and she knew that he would never give up Jareth as a friend. For a brief moment, though, she hoped that, for once, he would choose her.

'What? No, of course not.'

Onagh released a carefully measured breath. She nodded, and stepped past him to keep walking.

'She is still alive, Onagh,' Finvarra called softly. 'She is still the same person. Will you really distance yourself from her entirely? You are her only friend in Faerie.' At his words Onagh found her eyes filling with unshed tears. How did he always manage to draw emotion from her, no matter how hard she tried to smother it?

'I cannot see her, Finvarra, not in this state. She lives, yes, but only through Jareth, and her condition will only worsen. She recognised me today, I could tell she did, but soon all faces but his will only be a blur to her. She will be a mindless puppet, a willing slave. She will live in terror that he will leave her, and feel nothing but an all-consuming love when he speaks or touches her. She is Galatea*, a sick creation with a beautiful shell but no past, no future and no present except for him.' She clenched her fists, glaring hard at the ground to keep the tears from leaking from her eyes. 'She was my friend. I cannot bear to sit by and watch her like this.'

'Onagh…' he put his hands on her shoulders, but she threw him off and stormed off through the forest, stumbling, tripping, until finally her legs gave out and she fell to her knees beside the lake. The wind rippled her reflection, and breaking it into thousands of pieces. She glanced away when Finvarra sat down.

'Come back, Onagh. I know that this upsets you, that she was your friend. But given time—'

'This is not about me. It is about her. About what you and Jareth did to her.'

'I told you, I had nothing to do with it,' he insisted, but Onagh knew that even if it was true that he had discouraged Jareth this time, it was his influence that had led the Goblin King to this.

'Whatever,' she said, and then cringed, remembering who had taught her that human word. Finvarra knelt in the grass at her side, drawing closer.

You can still be a friend to her. You can protect her from complete and total subjugation. I understand that it is hard to—'

'No you do _not_ understand, Finvarra,' she cried. 'You understand nothing. You have no empathy, you can relate to no one, and all you ever see is yourself. But I am not you. I do not have three loyal best friend, and countless other friends and comrades. I have no one, Finvarra.' She turned to face him now, meeting his gaze squarely. '_No one_. And for a few short weeks I had someone, someone I could talk to, laugh with, someone who could be my friend. Someone I could care about without having to worry about the consequences. But now…now, once again, I am left alone, and she…she is the opposite. She is bound to Jareth for eternity, she can never be her own person.'

'You are not alone,' he said softly. 'You have me.' She laughed.

'First of all, we both know very well that you would choose Jareth over me in an instant, and second of all, _this is not about us_.'

'Onagh,' he snapped, his impatience returning in an instant, 'listen to me. We cannot reverse Aine's Curse. The only thing you can do for her is make her life better than it would be. Jareth does not know how to take proper care of a woman, let alone a human, but in her state she will not be able to tell him what she needs. She will need someone else to help care for her.' There was some sense in his words, but still she shook her head, too angry to consider it.

'You have to understand something, though,' he continued quietly. 'It is not about her, and it never will be again. She does not exist anymore. I know that that upsets you, but it is the way it is. This about you. Onagh,' he paused for a moment, sighing, 'you deserve to be happy. You have been unhappy for millennia. That is my fault, I know, but it should end, now. You need to be happy.'

'Do I? Well, I thought that I had a chance at happiness. I _have_ been happy over the last few weeks. But there isn't much chance of that anymore, now, is there? I have no friends in Faerie; I am doomed to spend eternity alone, and I accept that. Now, if this conversation is over then will you please leave me alone?'

'Not until you listen to me. It is true that you have no friends, but that is not because you cannot. You chose to close yourself off, Onagh. Think about it. You say that faeries only try to get close to you because they could gain something from it, but if that were the case then I would not be able to make friends, either. No, you purposefully distanced yourself, cut yourself off, made yourself cold to affection and connection, because you were afraid that someone would take advantage of you, hurt you...' he paused again, and then added, 'the way I did. That is my fault too. But Onagh, it is not too late. You are the Winter Queen; that does not mean that you have to be made of ice. You are a faerie, Onagh. Begin to think about your own happiness for a change. You can keep seeing you old friend, and you can make new ones. You can live your life by your own design.'

His sincerity astounded Onagh. She took a deep breath and stood up, but took only a single step away. Whether or not Finvarra was speaking with ulterior motives, some of what he said was true. Why shouldn't she be happy? Seeking joy was part of faerie nature, and if a mere human like the girl who had befriended her had spent her whole short life chasing happiness then why shouldn't she? Like her friend, Onagh could be strong. She seemed to have lived an eternity of weakness, but that could end, now. She pushed Finvarra's words from her mind, knowing that she could not trust him, and focused instead on what was the best path for her. Should she alienate herself from him, forget about the one friend she had found and go back to the solitary life she had lived? Was that strength? Or would that just be running away? Onagh found that she could not judge it herself.

In the end, after everything, it seemed that there was just one question to ask, one question that would decide her path: what would her friend have said?

* * *

*Galatea is a character in the ancient Greek myth _Pygmalion_. Pygmalion creates a woman to love him, making her perfect: beautiful, submissive, devoted, adoring, etc. She has no past, no memories, is nothing without him.

_

* * *

Thanks for reading, and thanks for all of the reviews for my last chapter. Sorry that this one was so short, and that so much of it was about my OCs. _

_The writing is a little awkward in places because I didn't want to use Sarah's name. She's not a person anymore, she has no identity outside of Jareth, so she has no name. Sorry if it was confusing. _

_Hope you enjoyed it! It may be a while before the next chapter is up because from December 29 to January 14 I won't have any time to write; I'll try to finish the next one before then, but I can't promise anything. _

_Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Diwali, Quanza, etc...or, as the faeries would say, happy Yuletide :) __ Let us bid farewell to the Holly King and welcome the Sun God into the world. _


	24. Chapter 24

_Over 200 reviews!! Thank you all so much for the support and encouragement. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Also: someday you'll go into the bookstore and see a book called _Iris_, the first book of a trilogy called _Nocturne._ Please read it, it takes place in Faerie, and Fin and Onagh are in it. If you it weren't for you I might not have started writing it :)  
_

_Liu16: _Aine_ is a Celtic goddess of love, and I named it after her, because the curse is, in effect, a love spell, if a sick and twisted one_

_This chapter is short, but I'd really appreciate reviews, especially about the progression of the story from Ch. 1 to now. The song was originally by Leonard Cohen, but I had the Jann Arden version in mind when I wrote this. And sorry this is such a long author's note  
_

_By the way, just realized that I'm at chapter 24…I never thought it would get to be this long, I think I had 9 planned out originally. Thanks so much for sticking with me all this time. _

* * *

**Chapter 24**

The Silver Wheel is ever turning. The Sun God is begotten, born and dies, and is once again begotten. The Holly King and his brother war for the rule of the land and the love of the Goddess as the seasons come and go. When the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, as summer fades and makes way for the cold, dark winter months, Samhain comes.

Jareth, king of the Goblin City, sat in his throne room, one leg thrown casually over the arm of his throne, staring thoughtfully across the room. On the floor below the raised dais on which his throne stood, goblins and other lesser fae danced, drank and feasted. With him, three other kings sat, two Seelie, two Unseelie. The war between their alignments reigned on, but it was clear by now that there would be no decisive victory. In Faerie there were always wars, some more serious than others, and this one would fade in time, although whether its end would come in decades or centuries was yet to be seen. Yes, everything was as it should be.

The four kings sat around a table, Midir and Manannan watching as the other two warred upon a chess board. Jareth smiled as he planned his next move, trying to predict how the game would go as he waited for his opponent to play. Finvarra sat opposite him, grey eyes unfathomable, twisting his king slowly between his fingers.

Not far away, Onagh, high queen of the Unseelie Court, sat upright on her own throne. Beside her were Étain and Fand, and numerous ladies-in-waiting flocked around them. They all talked and laughed, and even when the conversation lulled a serene smile remained on Onagh's face. Every so often she would glance over at her husband, who smiled at her, pleased to see her happy, or down at the human girl who sat on the floor by Jareth's feet.

The girl was beautiful and exotic in Faerie, and she, too, smiled with perfect contentment. Jareth's hand rested on her head, gently stroking her hair, and as he waited for Finvarra to move he plucked a grape from a platter and let her suck it from his fingers.

'Let us have some music,' Finvarra requested, finally placing his king on the board and leaning back, ceding the board to his opponent. Jareth glanced around for his minstrel, but he was nowhere in sight, so instead he glanced down at the girl by his side.

'Sing, my angel... Sing for me.'

The girl opened her jade eyes and looked up at him.

His hand was on her hair, his voice washed over her, his mere presence brought such bliss that she could hardly move, all she wanted was to sit forever in his company she would do anything to stay in his keeping the only thing she knew was that she had to be with him, needed to be with him, that was the only truth in the world and the only being in the world was him, and she was a part of him, a part of his soul, his heart, his mind, his magic, and everything she was was him he was all, her past, her present, her future, her sun her moon her evening star, her only hope her only joy her only strength her only power her only life, all that was real and true, and all she wanted in life was to be with him, to please him, because she lived in constant terror that he would cast her away, a constant grinding fear that never released her, a fear that he would hurt her, would leave her alone, she feared him more than she feared anything in the world but she also loved him, she was made of love for him she was love incarnate, nothing but love how she adored him he was so kind to her how could she not love him he completed her, made her whole, consumed her entire being she would do anything for him, and he had asked something of her, her heart soared because he wanted her, she could do something for him as he did so much for her he wanted her to sing him a song because he loved her, he loved her, he loved her and she would obey she could do nothing else and wanted nothing else; for fear of him, and love for him, she would do as he said.

Curled at his feet, the girl began to sing, in a voice far stronger than it had been in her former life, a voice imbued with faerie magic and splendour. Her eyes gazed, unseeing, at the rest of the hall, a light coming into them only when she turned them to Jareth. Her song rang clearly throughout the room, echoing her love, her devotion, and the mystery of eternity.

'_If it be your will  
That I speak no more  
And my voice be still  
As it was before,  
I will speak no more  
I shall abide until  
I am spoken for,  
If it be your will…  
_

_If it be your will  
That a voice be true  
From this broken hill  
I will sing to you,  
From this broken hill  
All your praises they shall ring,  
If it be your will  
To let me sing…'_

The Silver Wheel turned, the seasons changed, the war waged on, and her voice continued, whenever requested, for she was nothing, she had no self, was simply another part of the Goblin King. So it was, and so it would be, forevermore, the everlasting end.

_

* * *

_

_So for all time you shall remain_

_Your endless love the binding chains_

_And my slave you shall be forever_

_That's what it means to be my lover…_

_

* * *

_

_THE END  
_


End file.
